Be Little
by coffeeonthepatio
Summary: De-aged Harry is adopted by Hermione - the future ambassador for magic in Rome. Somewhere in Italy, a strange man is walking the streets, bearing a remarkable resemblance to one Severus Snape. Will they ever meet? Will love ensue? Almost canon-compliant.
1. Jack

**_Disclaimer: The recognizable characters do not belong to me. I make no money with this. No plagiarism from other fanfictions is intended._**

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"Can I crash here tonight?", Harry Potter, The Boy-Who-Lived-Twice asked his best friend Hermione Granger, employee at the Ministry of Magic as he was standing on the doorstep of the flat she shared with Ronald Weasley, Auror, her boyfriend, or probably fiancé. The status was quite unclear.

"Sure, Harry. Come in.", Hermione wasn't as surprised as she pretended to be. Poor Harry. He had never gotten over the war – had never understood why it had been him that had survived and why so many others hadn't. Why he had been the Chosen One. Why people still fawned over him, three years after the war had ended. Why his relationship to Ginny wasn't going as smoothly as he had hoped – as all of them had hoped.

She draped an arm over his shoulder and smiled tenderly at him. "Ron's got the nightshift. Sorry."

"'S okay.", he mumbled.

"Drink?"

"Whatcha got?"

Hermione chuckled. "You name it. Ron's taken a liking to muggle liquor."

He grinned – but Hermione saw through it. Fake, fake grins, fake smiles, fake happiness. Harry needed to change something. Probably therapy. Damn survivors guilt. They all had it. And he, the saviour of the wizarding world, had probably lost more than anyone, and felt all the more guilty for surviving. "Gin Martini?"

"If you insist.", she laughed, walked over to the drinking cart Ron had brought into their flat and mixed a dry Martini while Harry sat down on their old couch, brought over from the Burrow.

"So?", she asked.

"So what?", Harry looked at her with tired eyes.

"Is there a reason you want to stay the night or…?"

"Jusdidnwannabealone.", he mumbled, gratefully Hermione had given him the drink and he had something to hold onto.

"Alright.", she understood Mumbelese quite well these days. She opened a can of Diet Coke and settled down on the couch next to him. "Want to talk?"

He shook his head. "No, there's nothing much to tell." He downed his drink. "Can I use the guestroom?"

"Sure, it's all ready.", she still smiled at him. "You sure you don't wanna talk?"

He nodded again and stood up heavily. He hugged Hermione tightly and gave her a peck on her cheek. "Night, 'Mione."

"Night, Harry.", she looked after him worriedly. That wasn't the same person she had gone to school with. That depression had to be taken care of. No matter how. She sipped on her Coke and scratched her head. Tomorrow. She would have to talk to him then, but that night, she still had a bit of work to do and he probably needed rest.

* * *

"Je voudrais un ticket, oh, bugger it, I'd like a ticket to Genova, Italy, please. The next train, please.", the dark man, in dark denim trousers, a dark shirt and a black leather jacket requested at the train station ticket counter.

"Mais oui. 'ow vuld yu like to pay, sir?", the blonde clerk asked.

"Cash.", he replied.

She wondered why this man had absolutely no facial expression. Maybe a kind of paralysis. She smiled winningly. He wasn't bad looking, except the huge scar on his neck. She gasped when she saw it. Nobody could survive such a cut. Or, were those…snakebites?

He had a facial expression. He scowled, banged a few Euro notes on the counter in France, made sure his British passport, even though he heard he didn't need it at all, was securely in the inner pocket of his leather jacket and took the ticket, walking away, still scowling at the woman.

"I should hex her if I could.", he mumbled to himself, fingered the scars on his neck and waited for the train to come. He pulled a hip flask from the other inner pocket of his jacket and took a swig. Better, much better. Italy would be good. Better than France. Too close to home, that. Too many wizards there. Too big the risk to be recognized. Even after all those years.

* * *

"Harry?", Hermione knocked on the door to the guestroom. There was no noise inside. Only – gurgling. "Harry?", she knocked again, then opened the door slightly and glanced inside. And then, her breathing stopped.

"Harry!", she shouted, rushing into the room. "Oh, for heaven's sake, what have you done?". She ran to the bed, the normal-sized bed for grown ups. And a baby was on it. A naked baby. A year old, maybe one a half, she had no idea. What did she know about babies? About toddlers? "Oh God, oh God, oh God.", she said over and over again. "What have you done?". She leant over the boy, intuitively wrapping a blanket that lay next to the little thing, around it, while panting heavily. "That's not you, Harry, is it? Oh God, oh God. I've heard of de-aging, but it's not you, Harry, please, it's not you. You have a kid, right and you put it here because…oh God.", she was near hysterics, brushing the hair from the child's forehead. There was no lightning-bolt-shaped scar. Nothing. It was just a forehead. A baby forehead but if he had really de-aged himself, he would have done so before Voldemort had given him that scar. "Oh God", she muttered again and sat on the bed, next to where the baby was now sitting.

It looked up in her eye in earnest, then began to cry. "Oh no.", Hermione had no idea how to handle children. What did she know about those anyway? Fleur and Bill's baby, yes. But she always ran when someone wanted to put that in her arms.

She furrowed her brow in concentration and then picked the baby up gingerly. It couldn't be so difficult, could it? She tried desperately to steady her breathing and luckily, the child was quiet as soon as she had sat it on her lap.

It certainly looked a bit like Harry. Not a lot, the hair was lighter, but the eyes were brown. Or brownish-green, his nose was a bit different. But then again, she had only seen a few pictures of baby Harry.

"You're not Harry, are you?"

"Hawwi…", the baby babbled happily smiling.

"Okay.", she panted. "Okay. Breathe, Granger, breathe."

"Breass…grubby grubby.", it gurgled again, smiling, spit on both corner's of its mouth. Hermione nodded at it absently. There were clothes. Clothes in a corner. Harry's…

"No.", she scrunched her eyes closed. "You didn't.", she sighed deeply. "Why?", she looked around. "A letter, Harry? A note? Please?"

Her eyes scanned the room rapidly until they fell on a single, white sheet of paper.

* * *

The man leaved quickly through his touristy dictionary. "Quando parte la prossima nave per Napoli?", he stuttered.

"Come dice?", a toothless woman replied, smiling and revealing her gums.

"Bloody Italians.", he muttered, then went to look for a sign. Something. He waved dismissively at the woman, then strode away. The jeans were definitely too hot for this kind of weather. But he could stay there. Genoa would be alright for a while. He could always go to Naples later. Or not Naples at all. Rome. Florence. Something. He didn't know anyone in Italy. Nobody would know him. He could travel until his Euros ran out. And that was a long time coming.

He discovered a little café near the harbour and went to the barista. Again, he looked into his dictionary. "Un caffè, par favore.", he tried to speak very clearly, pronouncing every word.

"Al banco?", the barista asked and the man didn't know what he meant, so he simply nodded.

He was surprised that he didn't get a cup of coffee but a tiny little cup of espresso. He would have to learn Italian if he wanted to stay there. Especially in the muggle world.

* * *

_Dear Hermione,_

_I know it's unfair. I know you'll be raving and ranting and I know that you'll be angry at me. I can explain. No, I'm lying, I cannot explain. Please just try to understand me and please don't be angry at my younger self for doing this. For basically dumping myself on your doorstep (or in your guestroom). _

_Hermione, I don't want this life – as I've had – anymore. I don't want to die either, otherwise I would have pulled the plug, or however you want to call it, long before. But last week, Ginny told me that she had been unfaithful and that's when I decided to brew this potion that I found in an old book we had discovered during a raid. I confiscated the book – even though there was no reason for it. I researched a bit – good old Half-Blood Prince – it's irreversible. If you're interested nevertheless, it is called Babies Breath (quite poetic, isn't it?). I understand this potion is illegal, because it was used some decades ago by criminals, to escape prosecution. But I've taken precautions against this. You will see._

_I write this before I took the potion and I hope that I brewed it correctly. It certainly wouldn't do for you to have a dead Harry Potter in your apartment. If I am dead – Hermione, I'm sorry for the inconvenience. There are baby clothes in my bag. They will fit. I hope I calculated this correctly and I'm not a newborn but just as old as I was when my parents died._

_Anyway, I'm quite optimistic that it will work, it has the right colour, and smells right (like a nappy – don't let the name fool you). I understand that it will also slightly alter my appearance. I will get more features of my mother, will look less like my father. Maybe you will find out why this is. I do not care. As long as that damn scar is gone, as long as I get a second chance at life. Please Hermione, I know I'm imposing. If I'm here, in front of you, as a baby, please – I rely on you. If you cannot take me yourself, find a good family for me. Any family, muggle or not, that will raise me as a child should be raised. I don't want to be famous, I don't want to be looked at as if I were an alien. I want a normal life. Not one where I'll be on the cover of the bloody Daily Prophet every other day just because I got indigestion. _

_My wish, but that is quite selfish of me, I know, is that you take me. You, even though you would never believe it yourself, will be a good mother to me. And I trust you that you will do the best you can – no matter what you decide to do – that you will grant me my wish. _

_I would very much, of course, like a new name. Nothing that could link me to Harry Potter. Pick something. Anything. I've always kind of liked Jack. Plain, simple. But it's up to you. _

_Anyway, there are papers in my bag. If you want to keep me, there will be a magical binding contract in there. If you sign twice (you know how it works – real ink, a quill), I will be officially adopted by you. If you have found a family, let them do it. No need to get the bloody Ministry involved. I wouldn't want to end up in an orphanage, Hermione. Please. _

_I will have no recollection of my life before I de-aged myself. And I'm happy about this. I'm sorry to be such a burden. It wasn't an impulsive decision, please believe me. I've thought about this for a long time and only now, I found the right potion to do it._

_So sorry, Hermione that this letter is a mess. I was a mess before I took the potion. Now, I only want my life to be better. _

_I love you with all my heart, Hermione. You were the best friend a guy could hope for. I'm sorry._

_Harry_

_PS: I left a letter in my flat. It explains that I took off - an around the world trip. Never intended to come back. You'll see. Nobody will suspect that this baby is the famous Harry Potter.  
_

Hermione wiped tears from her eyes, the baby, turned around in her lap and looked inquisitively at her. She cuddled it close and kissed both his cheeks. She smiled under her tears. "I will take care of you, Jack.", she whispered and hugged the baby close to her. She carried the drooling, babbling baby in her arms over to the corner where Harry's bag had been dumped on the floor. There were a lot of paper-things in there, a few nappies, footed sleepers, a few clothes that babies wore during the day, a couple of t-shirts and trousers, socks, underwear. She sighed.

"We'll manage, eh?", she asked the baby, kissing it again on the cheek. It was so soft and smelled so…not like Harry. But this wasn't Harry anymore. This was Jack. Jack Granger.

The young woman placed the baby on the bed. "Let's get you dressed then, mh?", she smiled and pulled a face as she made sure he lay still and pulled the bag closer. She chose a t-shirt and some trousers and carefully dressed the baby in it after putting on the nappy. Hermione Granger was a smart woman but nappies were complicated things. It only took her three tries to get it on though, and the baby made happy noises and smile. "You're a happy little one, aren't you?".

It got easier after that. Jack sat nicely on her hip (holding a baby wasn't that difficult after all) and she took the papers in the living-room. She would sign them. She owed her old friend Harry this. She sat the toddler, infant? – what was the right word? on her lap and laid the official looking parchment in front of her. She read it through carefully while Harry, Jack, tried to grab the quill. Hermione, absently, gave him a muggle pen to play with. Less sharp, less dangerous. She only noticed after she had done it, that this was probably the first maternal thing she had ever done and she smiled in spite of herself.

However, after she had read through it, after she had filled in the baby's new name (Jack Granger) and birthday (May 2nd 2000 - just an estimate but she liked the date), and just before she signed, there was the sting of a doubt and a deep feeling of loss.

She nuzzled the little one's hair with her nose and inhaled his scent. "Oh Harry.", she choked back a few tears.

"Eek, duh, tsh?", the little one asked, having turned in her lap and she had to smile again, as she had two sticky tiny babyhands on her cheeks. She laughed as he continued his babbling. There was no way she could understand what he was saying but it was cute, especially as it was interrupted by laughter from him.

He wriggled out of her lap, toddling very unsteadily towards the door.

"Jack, you stay here, please.", Hermione called after the little one.

"Yum yum.", he said, looking at her earnestly.

"Yum yum. Are you hungry, Jack?", she grinned and the boy nodded. "Okay, we'll find you something to eat, as soon as I've signed this, okay?"

"Yum yum.", he repeated. "'ungy."

"Hungry?", she laughed.

"Ya.", he nodded and fell flat on his behind. Hermione decided he was safe for a moment there, signed the papers quickly and barely noticed how the parchment folded itself, duplicated and how the original disappeared. The toddler was babbling, talking to himself on the floor, picking fluff off the carpet and wanting to put it in his mouth just as Hermione picked him up again.

"I'm sure I'll find you a banana or something here.", she cuddled the child. "And then we'll wait for Ron and oh God.", she groaned. She had just impulsively adopted a 14 or 15 months old baby. Maybe 13 months old. And her boyfriend, or almost fiancé or fiancé, didn't know about it.

* * *

The man had bought a newspaper, had bought another coffee (this time, he had checked for real coffee, not espresso), and perused it for appartementos. He would stay. It would be alright. And all without a wand and without any magic at all. Thank Merlin people thought he was dead.

* * *

"'Mione, I'm home.", Ron called from the door and Hermione gave baby Jack, happily munching on a banana (and making a mess of it) an encouraging look and pulled him tighter to her.

"We're in the kitchen."

"Harry?", he asked. He knew Harry was staying a lot at their place. And who else could 'we' be?

"Sort of.", Hermione muttered.

"What's that?", Ron cried, pointing at the baby.

****


	2. Aftermath

_**The usual disclaimers apply.**_

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"What's that?", Ron cried, pointing at the baby.

"That's a baby.", Hermione replied calmly.

"Is it yours? 'Mione, how dare you? You have a child without telling me? How lame is that? I can't believe you would do something like that, well. Thank you very much.", he shouted at the top of his lungs.

Little Harry, uh, Jack, in Hermione's lap began to squirm and seemed quite scared of this man's outburst. She pressed the little back a little closer to her stomach and rocked him back and forth before she fixed her glare on Ron. "How daft are you?", she asked calmly. "And don't shout, it scares him."

"Oh, him. You have a son, Hermione? How nice to know."

"How can I have a son, Ronald?", she sighed. "We've been living together for more than two years. I think you would have noticed if I'd've been pregnant.", she stroked Jack's tummy while she was talking, then added, only for herself, "Even if it's always lights out with you."

"I can't believe you have a son behind my back. Whose is it? Who's the father?"

"Don't you listen, you dimwit? Jack's not my...uh, my biological child."

"Why's he here then?", Ron huffed, still glowering.

"He's mine. Sort of. I just adopted him."

Ron threw his hands in the air and began to pace the room. "You adopted a child. How very mature of you, 'Mione. If you had wanted a child, we could have gone to work straight away."

He rolled his eyes, and stepped closer to the child, scrutinizing it for a moment. He pushed his freckled hand a little too roughly underneath the baby's chin and forced Jack to look up at him.

"You're lying!", he screeched after a moment. "You slept with Harry! This is Harry's child. And yours. It looks like you and Harry."

"Ron.", she said quietly, especially since Jack once again had jumped and began to cry. She rocked the boy a little more and kissed the top of his head. "Don't be ridiculous. Believe me, you would have noticed if I had hidden a child.", she shrugged.

"You're a witch, for Merlin's sake. Of course you can hide it and I wouldn't have noticed."

Hermione huffed, shifted the crying toddler to her hip and went to the living room. Jack buried his face in her neck and cried. She softly stroked his back. "It's fine, Jack, he's just a bit shocked at the moment. He can't understand but underneath, Ron is a good guy.", she whispered into his hair, and triumphantly, picked up Harry's letter. She rushed back into the kitchen where Ron had taken to pacing. She made her angry face and thrust the letter in his hands.

"Read, don't be a prat.", she spat.

Ron took a moment, then snorted. "Sure. You've gone to great heights this time, Hermione."

"What? Are you doubting this? You know Harry's handwriting. This is Harry.", she lowered her voice and pointed at the boy.

"Awwi.", the baby gurgled and smiled at Ron.

"No way."

"Grr, mama, tsh, breesss.", he turned and grinned at Hermione. Despite the severity of the situation, she had to smile at the boy. "Yes, you're quite right. Wait.", she stopped. "Did you say mama?"

"Mama!", Jack nodded with conviction. "Mama."

Hermione laughed and cuddled the little one. "Ron, did you hear?", she asked, quite proud. "He said mama."

"That proves it, doesn't it?"

Hermione immediately turned serious again and rolled her eyes. "You can't be serious, Ron. This is Harry. Well, this used to be Harry. I'm sure if you look somewhere in the guest room, you'll find the vial with the potion he took.", he nuzzled Jack's hair, then let him on the floor when he squirmed too much in her lap again. He toddled to Ron and stood in front of him, smiling wetly.

"I don't believe you.", Ron whispered.

"Lieve. Mama. Nana. Yum yum."

"Ron, I think he's still hungry. We should..."

"You would know that, wouldn't you? Where is Harry?"

"There. Just there, standing just in front of you. And looking as if he needed a nappy soon.", she lost her temper.

"You're saying this is Harry?"

"Awwi. Ungi.", the boy said again.

"Look, he's saying it himself. It's Jack now though. But he used to be Harry. God, Ron, understand it, please? In the living-room are the adoption papers, I think.", she huffed, and stood up rapidly. "I can't believe you thought I had a child behind your back, Ronald Weasley.", she mumbled hurt.

Ron rolled his eyes again and hurried into the living room. There were adoption papers for sure but the name said Jack Granger. There was nothing in it about Harry Potter.

"How do I know this child is Harry? And how do I know you didn't cheat on me? How do I know that you didn't simply adopt any child? Or got any child? And why do you make such decisions without me?", he asked coldly.

"Ron!", Hermione was outraged. "You read the letter. Harry showed up last night, wanting to crash. He drank a martini, I asked him if he wanted to talk, he said no, went straight to bed. I had work to do but I thought I would talk to him this morning. I went into the guest room where I found the baby. And the letter. Harry's clothes he had come in in were in a corner. He is my best friend, Ron. We knew he felt rotten. You dragged him through the bars, your sister cheated on him and he asks me if I can adopt him when he's suddenly a 14 month old baby. Now, what do I say to this? Oh, Harry, sorry, Ronnie doesn't believe me, go back to your aunt and uncle? Not that I would know where they live. Huh, Ron? Huh? What?"

"Don't be so dramatic, 'Mione.", he rolled his eyes again. "Tshhh, you really should calm down."

"Calm down? I tried calm, Ronald Weasley.", she spat, angry as she could ever get. "You didn't believe calm. You believed what you wanted.". Hermione covered little Jack's ears. "Bastard."

"'Mione!", he said, scandalized.

"What? Thinking I was bloody cheating on you?", she shook her head. "Honestly, I've had it.", she huffed, rushed into the guest room with the baby in her arms and quickly went through the baby things, found a little hat and a jacket, dressed him, while he was looking at her with a puzzled expression. "It's okay, Jack. I got you. We're getting out of here, getting some clothes and hopefully", she spoke a little louder: "he'll have either changed his mind and will seriously apologize or he's gone."

* * *

The man walked through Genoa's streets and suddenly, there was person strutting in front of him. Silvery, long blonde hair. He knew it couldn't be. He knew it couldn't. And still – no way he was staying in this town. It didn't matter whether he had called this landlady from a phone booth that smelled like urine and something he didn't want to know. He didn't want a flat in this town.

Yes, he was dead. Or as good as. Or Kissed. It didn't matter to the man. What did matter was that he needed something bigger, a bigger town, far away. Train station. And go from there. The next train. Somewhere in Italy.

* * *

"Come on, baby. We'll find some nice clothes. And some nappy bag and some, uh, I don't know, nappies. And a place to change them. And a pushchair. Or a pram or something. How the hell should I know..."

"Hell.", Jack said happily.

"Oh brilliant. Now I really have to watch what I'm saying.", she smiled at him.

"Yeah!", Jack shouted happily and wriggled out of her arms.

"Jack, no.", she protested but was silenced when she noticed that he just wanted to walk on his own and wanted to hold her hand anyway. "I'm sorry, sweetie. I thought, oh, nevermind.", she shook her head. "Okay, look. This is the Leaky Cauldron. We can get to Diagon Alley through there. And we'll find some good clothes there. I would usually get you something things from Muggle London but I don't have any money left in my regular account as I get my salary from the Ministry...oh bloody hell.", she cursed.

"Oody hell.", Jack replied happily.

"Oh no, oh, no, you don't. We're getting that word out of your system as soon as possible."

"Ya, mama. Tsh, Pfhty, grumby, diludadida, mama. Oody Hell, mama."

"No, Jack, no, it's just that...I have to work.", she picked the boy up in her arms and looked in his brownish-green eyes. "Hermione's got to work."

"Mama woak."

"I'm not sure whether I can ever get used to you calling me mama, sweetheart."

"Mama," he replied, and grabbed her cheeks with his hands. "Mama."

"Okay, mama. I get it.", she laughed. "Maybe we can change it to mum? Or mummy?", she asked, her nose wrinkled. That made Jack laugh. "Okay, I have to think about work. Somehow. Somehow we'll manage, okay Jack?"

"Kay!", he grinned toothily.

"Now. Sweetie, we need to be on our best behaviour. I don't want anyone recognizing you."

"No," he replied.

Hermione laughed, cast a mini-glamour on her...son...and stepped into the Leaky Cauldron, then without being noticed, into Diagon Alley.

* * *

He stood in front of the huge display in the train station. Good. He smirked. He would stop being so paranoid. Nobody knew him. Nobody had recognized him in France. And he had been there for a while. Granted, never for long, never staying but still. Nobody had recognized him – and he had even only slightly changed his appearance. Well, his nose. But just a bit. The painful, muggle way. And as soon as he had stopped working with potions, his hair had lost it's greasiness. He got a bit grey. Just a bit.

An hour should be enough, he thought to himself as he noticed the small shop right there in the train station. Only Italians could be vain like that, he smirked, then strode purposefully towards it.

He opened the glass door and was greeted by three broad, nice – he had to admit that – grins.

"Buon Giorno.", he said slowly. Otherwise those hair dressers would never understand him. He opened his dictionary, then pointed at an entry. "Tagliare e lavare, per favore.", he read.

"Si, certo.", the most dyed blonde grinned and lead him to a chair.

In the end, he had a haircut much like his father had had. But it suited him. Short on the sides, a side parting on the left, the top a bit longer, the grey looking rather distinguished. The stubble on his face – alright, even he thought he looked quite, uh, good. Not handsome but interesting. And those hair dressers, judging by their giggles, thought so too. He placed too many Euros on the counter, then, with something akin to self-esteem, he walked to one of those machines that sold tickets and bought himself one. It was difficult. Very difficult. Especially trying to get the bloody machine to swallow his banknote.

As soon as he was settled, he needed a bank account and those plastic cards that hadn't really existed when he had last been a muggle during his teenage years.

* * *

"Hermione?", Ginny Weasley rushed after her and subconsciously, Hermione grabbed Jack's hand tighter.

"Ginny, hiya!", she replied, overly chipper.

"Hermione, have you heard from Harry?"

"No.", she lied smoothly, shaking her head vehemently. "Why?"

"He...oh Merlin, he sent me a letter."

"He did? Why...I mean, have you...split up?", Hermione willed the child on her side to be calm and thanked all the stars that she had had the good sense to shrink all their shopping bags.

"Sort of, I dunno. Maybe. But listen, 'Mione, listen.", she said urgently and pulled her to the side. Hermione was too slow and too surprised to act and so Jack was pulled with her. He gave an indignant shriek.

"What's that?", Ginny asked curiously, pointing at the boy.

Hermione rolled her eyes. The second Weasley to ask that question and point. "That's my cousin's child. She had to go to a wedding over the weekend and I took Jack a little early. He likes me."

"Mama.", he babbled. "Mama hell oppin. Yum yum nana."

"Never mind him, he calls every female mama.", Hermione shrugged and kissed the baby. "What about the letter?"

"Letter. Awwi letter."

"He, uh, he took off, 'Mione.", she said and Hermione, once more, was bugged by the nickname. "He wrote that he couldn't be here any more and that he wanted to leave."

"Really?", Hermione lay a gentle hand on the young Weasley's arm. "I didn't know.", she lied.

"Mama", Jack whined and rubbed his eyes. Hermione congratulated the little boy for his impeccable timing.

"Ginny, I'm sorry. I wish...I don't know, I wish there was something I could do. I had no idea. Maybe he'll write again."

"You're very cold.", Ginny observed.

Hermione shrugged. "Maybe it's for the best for him. You know that he wasn't well after the final battle. You know he was depressed."

"No, I didn't know."

"Everyone knew.", Hermione frowned.

"I didn't. He never talked to me about it.", she huffed. "And he..."

"He? He what?", she asked, then turned to Jack and gently pushed his head against the crook of her neck. "Is that comfy, baby?"

"Baby mh bilds, pilko."

"Mh, okay.", Hermione laughed. "No, Ginny, I'm not cold. I just think it might have been for the best if he took off."

"So he didn't come to you?"

Hermione shook head sadly. "Sorry."

"Let me know if you hear anything.", Ginny turned to walk away but Hermione held her back.

"Ginny, why did you get a letter? Aren't you living together any more? Did he leave a note or a letter?"

"We're not living together any more. Don't play dumb with me, Hermione. You know exactly that he told you what I've done."

"He never told me anything. What did you do?"

"None of your business.", Ginny huffed and walked off without looking back.

"Well, Jack. Seems like the first people noticed you're not there any more.", she smirked. "But you'll get your perfect childhood."

"Ya. Mama. Pilko."

"Is pilko actually pillow, sweetheart?"

"Beddy bye.", Jack simply said and snuggled closer to his mama.

* * *

He looked out of the window, then sighed. The compartment was empty and he could stretch his legs. He ran his fingers through his short hair. It was certainly different. But nobody, really nobody, not with the less big nose and the new haircut and those clothes would recognize him. Nobody could. Neither light nor dark.

Rome would be his city. In Rome he would find a place to live, he could blend in the crowd, he could find a job, not that he needed it, he would find book stores, he would learn Italian, maybe meet an Italian woman (yes, he actually smirked at the thought, no, he made fun of himself. Him and a woman – sure). And he would get a new name. Or use the one that was in his passport.

He allowed himself a smile and enjoyed the Italian landscape whooshing past him.

* * *

"You're here.", she said as she came back into her flat.

"I'm still here.", he glared at her. "I can't believe you just took off."

"Ron, a moment, okay? Jack really needs to sleep."

"His name is Harry.", Ron growled.

"Jack.", Hermione glared back, then simply waved him off and went into the guest room, talking softly to the baby. She cast a spell around the bed in order to keep him from falling out and lay him down. "Sleep tight, baby.", she whispered gently and kissed his forehead.

"Mama.", the toddler replied and lifted his arms. When Hermione bent down, he grabbed her around the neck and gave her a sloppy kiss on the cheek. She smiled, winked, then walked tiredly out of the room.

"You can't keep him.", Ron said quietly.

"I adopted him. It's done, Ronald. He's mine."

"It's Harry Potter. Don't you think he'll be missed?"

"Have you read the letter? He took care of it.", she shook her head. "Ron, I know it's..."

He shook his head. "Seriously, Hermione. You don't care about me any more. You never even thought about me when you signed those papers, did you?"

She thought for a moment, then shook her head, looking at her shoes. "I didn't. I'm sorry."

"We should...you know, just...split."

"What?", she asked completely taken by surprise.

"You heard me. Merlin, Hermione, you go to work, you come here, you work here. We haven't talked about anything in the last year. Didn't you notice? Anyway, that's not important. You can't raise a child on your own and I'm not staying. I'm going.", he explained as if he was talking to a child. "And I'll bring the child to the Ministry."

"Why? I adopted him.", she fought.

Ron shrugged, then disappeared into their bedroom. He came back out with a few bags only seconds later.

"Ron...what?", she panted, panic seizing her somewhat.

"Good bye, Hermione. I'll be back in the morning and take the child with me."

She was acting out of reflex, naturally. She pulled the wand from the back-pocket of her jeans, raised it, pointing it at his head. "I can't let you know about Harry.", she whispered, stunned him and began the tedious task of altering his memories.

Jack Granger was safe.

****


	3. Money, Muggles, Europeans

**_The usual disclaimers apply._**

**_Now, there are several references (popcultural and to actual people) in this chapter. Find one and you'll get a dedication. Find two, and you'll get dedications for two chapters. Three, three chapters and so on. Good luck!_**

**_Oh, the references in the reviews, of course._**

**_

* * *

_**

She had read up on babies, of course, reading up was what she did best. She knew what to feed him and she did. She had made a list of things to do that day and that list was long. She had to get to the Ministry, she had to find a nanny if things there didn't work out (and if she couldn't find another way), she still had to buy some more baby food and some more clothes. She had to make the flat secure for Jack and she needed to make sure not to swear or curse in front of him.

"Jack?", she called. He was roaming somewhere in the living room. It was the first room she had secured, using a spell – remembering that, she needed a book about spells used with toddlers. Or children. There had to be something. And she needed books about the up-bringing of children. Anything, just anything.

The baby gurgled and walked unsteadily towards her. Hermione smiled at him. "Will my little boy come here? Will he?", she asked, getting down on her knees and raising her arms for him to fall into. Jack broke into a run, a little run, and let himself fall into his mama's embrace. She kissed him and lifted him in her arms.

"Alright, Jack.", she repeated the name often. He was still calling himself Awwi sometimes and that wouldn't do at all. "Jack, do you want to go with to the Ministry with me? With mummy?"

"Mama.", he laughed and sort of clicked with his tongue and his little teeth.

"Alright, alright. We'll go to the Ministry together. But just so you know, you're my cousin Lola's baby Jack. Lola died, unfortunately, with her husband Tony, in a car crash, I think. And you survived. Okay?"

"Kay.", spit was gathering at the corner of his mouth but he still laughed.

"I can't believe how happy you are, Jack."

"Appy, mummy. Ack appy mama."

"Wow.", she laughed and hugged him. "That was basically you're first complete sentence."

"Ya.", he agreed and nodded vehemently, sending little drops of spit everywhere.

"Okay, my sweet, let's go.", she just said when there was a tap on the window. She groaned but sat Jack on the floor and let the owl in. She unrolled the parchment, not knowing what she was supposed to be expecting.

Certainly not that, she thought to herself as she unrolled it. "Jack – you were really crazy when you were Harry.", she smiled, and reread the scroll.

_Bank statement – your account number 5114923660 Gringotts. _

_Previous Balance: 134 Galleons 5 Sickles 1 Knut_

_Transfer by Mister Harry Potter (account no: 13324883490): 55 000 Galleons_

_Salary Ministry of Magic (account no: 00000000001): 450 Galleons_

_Updated Balance: 55 584 Galleons 5 Sickles 1 Knut_

She read again, clasped the hand over her mouth and picked the boy up again, kissing him everywhere on his chubby, angelic little face. "Thanks, Jack. Thanks. That'll make it easier."

* * *

"Uh, parla inglese?", he asked as he met the person he had called. It was astonishing how quick some things could go if one wasn't picky. And he certainly wasn't picky when it came to a place to live. He needed a bathroom, a bed and a way to boil water for tea and the rest, well, the rest didn't matter to him. He could take care of himself, with or without a wand. And, remembering from his old life, this was as far away from the Italian Ministry of Magic as it could be. That was the downside about living in a capital. But well, he wasn't wanted anywhere and people thought he was dead. He was on no posters, no flyers, no placards as Sirius Black, idiotic, moronic dunderhead he had been. No. No, people thought he was dead. And technically, Severus Snape was dead.

"A little bit.", the Italian woman replied.

"Va bene. How much do you want for this flat?", he asked slowly.

"350 Euros a month, Mister...uh..."

He looked around. He needed a name. Quick. He looked around until his eyes fell on a cinema located just outside his flat and he could see the front of said cinema from one of the very dirty windows. And of course that would show a poster of one of the few muggle films he did know. One of the three or so. But why would they show such a film? He remembered the night he had seen it perfectly. But he didn't want to remember it. He only wanted to remember the film. And there was his name.

"Torrance", he replied. "Jack Torrance, signora.", he crooked a smile.

"Very well, Mister Torrance.", she rolled the r. "Would you like the appartemento?"

"Si.", he nodded. "Do you require the rent now?"

"Si, prego.", she nodded and he counted a few notes, then handed her those.

"What about mobilia?", she asked then, gesturing wildly around the room.

"Mobilia?", he asked, consulting his dictionary.

"Mobilia, come si dice? Uh, chair? Table? Bed?"

"Furniture?", he guessed.

"Si, furniture. Do you need mobilia?"

"No, thank you. I'll manage.", he nodded.

"Bene. The, uh, chiave.", she smiled and handed him two sets of keys.

"Grazie tante.", he forced himself to smile again and held on tightly to the keys. Furniture next. A desk, a bed. Luckily, there was tiny kitchenette with a kettle. That was all he needed.

"Grazie, Mister Torrance.", she nodded and left the flat, leaving him be.

He breathed a sigh of relief. His new home.

* * *

"Morning, Mick.", Hermione smiled, carrying Jack on her hip.

"Who's that little lad?", her colleague asked curiously, tickling the baby on the chin.

"Well, he is sort of mine now."

"Hermione!", he asked, scandalized.

"My cousin died.", she shrugged. "I'm the only living relative. Well, apart from my parents but they're still in Australia.", she explained.

"Oh, poor thing. What's its name?"

"Jack.", Hermione smiled.

"Ack.", the little one repeated.

"And you brought him to work?"

"Not really but where should I leave him? I don't have a babysitter just yet and I was just on my way to see Tapetta.", she shrugged. "I need a solution and I'm not sure...oh well, we'll see.", she ended as she saw her boss returning to his office. She waved, Jack waved and she was off.

"Mister Tapetta?", she rushed after him.

"Hermione Granger.", he smiled benevolently. "And a baby."

"Sorry.", she actually liked the man. And if she could trust her gut feeling, and she usually could, he would help her find a solution.

"No worries, no worries, girl. I wanted to talk to you anyway.", he ushered her into his office. "It's actually quite a coincidence you coming here today, I would have sought you out anyway."

"Oh?", she asked. Usually she didn't work close with the wizard how had spent most of the time during the last wars abroad.

"Yes, but first of all. Tea?"

"Lovely.", she smiled, took a seat and shifted Jack on her lap. She handed him a muggle pen – his favourite toy at the moment.

"Good. Tell me, who's that tyke?", he asked, smiling still at her.

"That's why I came here, Mister Tapetta.", she began hesitantly. "My, uh, cousin died. And I know she's a muggle and her husband was muggle but she had told me that little Jack here had shown signs of accidental magic. Accioing things. Nothing big and nothing surprising at his age and I sort of had an eye on him."

"Must run in your family then. Great-grandmother or so..", Tapetta commented.

"Something like that.", she lied. "Anyway, she was on her way to me and, uhm,", she waited, bit her lips to make it more plausible and sniffled a little. "there was a car crash, a, uh, muggle vehicle crash."

"I know what a car is, Hermione.", he laughed softly.

"And she died. And her husband.", she bit her lip again and cuddled Jack closer.

"Oh Merlin. I'm sorry for being so tactless."

"It's alright. You couldn't've known. And as I'm the last living relative she has, little Jack's to stay with me."

"Ack!", the little one shouted.

"He seems to like his name.", Tapetta remarked, smiling. "Well. That is certainly...well, I don't know what it is, exactly."

"Right."

"No. No, Hermione, I didn't mean that. That's what I meant a minute ago when I told you that I would have asked you into my office today anyway."

"Yes?", she asked, a little anxiously. She really wanted to take care of Har, uh, Jack, but she couldn't afford to lose her job.

"There's a new development. Not so new but it has taken them a while to get around to things.", he rolled his eyes. "And we're working closely together with the Department of International Relations."

"Yes?", she asked again, curious instead of anxious now.

* * *

He cursed the war, he cursed the Dark Lord, he cursed Italy, he cursed foreign languages, and he hated that the Italian women seemed to like to mock him and that they took turns making fun of him while whistling after him. He hated that every time he turned to glare, they would smile and wink. And he hated the fact, above all, that he seemed not even competent enough to buy a bloody bed.

He cursed himself above all. He should have gone all the way, should have gotten complete facial, uh, cosmetic, uh, face-off, uh, damn it, he should have let that bloody French surgeon change his face completely and then should have returned to good old England, not roaming around the bleeding Continent like this. Europeans - Continental Europeans - were not normal. And the Italians...tsh. Walking in white slippers without socks on. The men! And hair always slicked back.

Jack Torrance bet that the Italian man also, in addition to the two or three, uh, what was the name of that damn muggle invention? Those portable phones? The Italians always yelled "pronto" in it. So would he call those things. Those weird kind of phones that could be used anywhere. He would call them prontos. Done. Well, Jack Torrance also bet (he hated to be interrupted in his train of thought by another train of thought – and that happened quite often) that, in addition to the two or three or four prontos they carried around, they also had a compact mirror in their pockets. How else could they always look like this? So groomed. Over-groomed, actually. He sneered, but immediately stopped himself.

If there was one thing that people would recognize about Jack Torrance, it was his sneer. That was completely Severus Snape's trademark. No more sneering.

He shook his head and decided that he needed to make a list. A car. Or at least a ticket for public transport. Weekly? Monthly? Not that he trusted those vehicles but it had been decades since he had driven a car himself and this city was probably not the best place to reacquaint himself with the inner workings of it. Back to the list. A ticket for public, dangerous transport. Furniture. A bank account to get all those Euros out of his bag. If anyone knew he was carrying those amounts of money with him, they'd rob him. If they could. And while Severus Snape had a wand for self-protection – and the protection of others, Jack Torrance had not. But Severus Snape had learned a few things and Jack Torrance would profit from them.

Back to the list. Furniture. Ticket. Top two items.

* * *

"Alright, the thing is this. We have been planning, for a while now actually, since right after the fall of uh, well, you-know, to install things like, what the muggles call embassies."

"Embassies?", Hermione asked, bouncing Jack on her knee.

"Yes. You're familiar with the concept?"

"Of course, but I thought something like this existed already."

"No. So, as I was saying, we're right now, installing all those embassies. In all the major cities in Europe at the moment. And we need people there, ah, I'm not saying famous people, but people who had a hand in the fall of...you-know."

"What?"

"Maybe I'm being obscure. I'm sorry, Hermione. We, our department and the Department of International Wizarding Relations and we, or rather I, want you for one of the posts."

"As ambassador?", she asked, frowning. "Why would I...?"

"You're more than qualified. You know what you're doing and you have a certain status. Along with your, uh, Ronald Weasley..."

"Mister Weasley and I are no longer a, uh, an item.", she looked straight into the man's blue eyes.

"Oh. That makes it simpler then."

"Ambassador? Me? Again, why?"

"Hermione, you're not challenged here. You're more or less pushing piles of paper around. This post, while giving you a major boost of status..."

"Which I'm not interested in.", she interrupted, muttering.

Tapetta ignored her remark and carried on as if nothing had happened. "It would also give you a chance to get out of England for a while – after the flight of Harry Potter I'm sure you want to be somewhere else as well..."

"How do you know about it?", Hermione interrupted again.

"The Ministry...Hermione, the grapevine at the Ministry is the worst – or best – in the entire world. Wizarding or muggle. Can I finish?"

"Sorry, Mister Tapetta.", she shrugged, glad she had Jack in her lap. He gave her fingers something to play with. Even if those things to play with were his fingers and he squeaked occasionally.

"But apart from the status, more money, a chance to get our of England, it would also allow you to bring up this delightful young fellow."

"How? I mean you just said ambassador?"

"Yes, but you would work at basically your home. And you would have staff. House Elves, or even a nanny on a year abroad. Something like, mh, my daughter did this a few years ago, since she was so interested in the muggle world, something like an au pair girl. Are you fa..."

"I'm familiar with the concept, yes.", she sighed. "Then I would basically have to do nothing?"

"No, on the contrary. You would have to do a lot. You would be hostess of a few, I don't know, events a year, hosting wizards from other countries, you would deal with the ministry in the country. You would be responsible for most of the relations with the country you chose to be in."

"And that would leave me time for Jack?", she asked, frowning deeply.

"Of course. Delegate, Hermione. And before you say that you would be just a figure-head. No. No, you wouldn't just be a figure-head. You would work as much as you like – but the advantage is that you'd be living and working in the embassy and that you could work whenever you like. Day, night, when the little one takes his nap, when he's playing in your office."

"Uh. Oh. Uhm.", she stuttered.

"Think about it, talk about it with little Jack", he winked at the boy, "and let me know. As soon as possible would be good. End of the week at the latest, please.", he smiled and stood up. Hermione did the same and smiled as her boss – or former boss? - pinched Jack's cheek and the little one giggled into her neck.

She was very confused.

* * *

The first thing he bought was a decent dictionary. Then a ticket for the public transportation. Then he asked one of those Italians where he could buy a bed. He did that. He had it delivered the same day. He slept in it. He slept well in it. The first time he had slept well in years, it seemed. He felt that this bed was now his bed. His own bed. And he hadn't had that since before he had become Headmaster.

The next day, he bought a cupboard, a few clothes (and he hated every minute of it), faked his passport again (oh, the things one learned when living as a muggle) and officially became Jack Torrance, born in Stratford-Upon-Avon, Warwickshire, England, United Kingdom (yes, he was obvious but who cared?) on November 30th, 1960. Then, with his new passport, opened a bank account at the Cassa di Risparmio and was surprised when he saw how much money he had actually carried around with him.

"Your new, uh, come si dice, money on your account is now 346 820 Euros.", the cashier had told him happily. And yes, that was a lot of money. And he cursed himself for being so naïve to carry it all around with him. In such big notes. Well, he couldn't change that now, could he?

He spent two more days exploring Rome. And he didn't find it wanting.

* * *

It took her three days to come to a decision. Three long day during which she missed Harry more than ever before. Three days in which she even missed Ron. And the Weasleys. But she knew, she had to decide alone. Well, Jack had had a say in this matter as well. His opinion was clear.

"Ack. Mama. Tsh. Ick. Da. Ri. Pfh.", and he clicked his tongue. Hermione interpreted it as a no on the first day, a maybe, but rather no on the second, and a yes after a sleepless night with Jack in her bed on the third. She would go. And, according to Tapetta, she had her choice of where to go and since she knew she would never be able to decide, she would let her baby do the job. Buying a map of Europe in a muggle book store, she put it in front of Jack, who sat in her lap and gave him a pen.

"Jack, can you draw a circle somewhere? Anywhere? Or make a point?", she asked him, kissing him all over. She could never stop kissing him.

"Ya!", he exclaimed happily and hit the pen on the table without actually marking anything.

"Could you just draw a circle? It's fun, Jack. Just a circle, okay?"

"Kay!", he spat a little on the map, then, holding the pen like a dagger made a huge circle on the map.

"Italy, Jack?", she asked.

"Ack. Mama. Ly.", he grinned wetly.

"Rome it is then.", she chuckled and in her mind, composed her note to her boss, saying she would take the offer. If they could go to Rome.

****


	4. Change

Usual disclaimers.

_**Dedicated to: **_

_**harry's~girl **_

_**LydiaLovegood **_

_**Aelirenn **_

_**lilsnape **_

_**All The Pretty Horses **_

_**Cal **_

_**angeleye68 **_

_**Krystaluvstwilight **_

_**all of whom found at least one reference! Congratulations!**_

_**

* * *

**_

Hermione packed the rest of her books in a large box and laughed as she noticed Har – Jack – sitting happily in another box, playing with a plush dragon his mummy – he had that down now – had bought for him. He talked, well, babbled with it loudly and that alone made Hermione smile. How often had she sat in this flat, surrounded by nothing but the shuffling of papers? Now, things had changed. She had given up her work to be an ambassador. She had a child now she had to take care of. She had to do it on her own. Ron – Ron had recovered quite quickly. With, not surprisingly, Lavender Brown. Not even three weeks after they had – according to his memories – ended things amicably.

And because of that amicability, she had agreed to go to The Burrow before she left for Rome, with Jack, via Portkey. Apparently, her place to live within the embassy was ready – a room for her, a study, a room for Jack. Not much more. She would have House Elves. And people who worked there. But she would be the boss. And Hermione Jean Granger wasn't sure she liked the thought.

**

* * *

**

It didn't happen often, that Jack – or Severus for that matter – was overwhelmed by seeing something. Actually, it had only happened about a dozen times in his life, both good and bad.

Seeing Lily for the first time had been a good overwhelming experience. Seeing Hogwarts for the first time another. Seeing Harry Potter for the first time had been been a bad, overwhelming experience. So like his father. Knowing Nagini was out to get him, biting him another.

And yet, he almost fell to his knees stepping into this building. Church? Temple? Round. Marble. So – insignificant – from the outside. So overwhelming on the inside. And both Jack and Severus realized that they were the same person – that they could never be divided. But he also knew, surrounded by stupid tourists from all over the world, all taking exactly the same pictures, all trampling on sacred grounds., that he could make a change in himself. That he could truly try to find some form of happiness.

Not the happiness he had witnessed on the streets, mothers cuddling their children, lovers kissing lovers – not that kind. But a quiet kind. The kind that a painter probably experienced when he finished a portrait. The kind someone experienced who just liked the small things in life. The kind of happiness he had felt only seconds before.

No.

No.

Severus Snape and Jack Torrance would never be happy.

He allowed himself one last sneer at the, indisputably beautiful building as he was standing in front of it and went to find the next store that would sell him some grappa. His hip flask was empty.

And illusions would bring him nowhere. Not that he wanted to go anywhere. Not that he wanted to be happy.

**

* * *

**

"Alright, Jack, my sweetie, we're about to apparate. It'll feel a bit icky, I know, but it's the simplest way, okay?", she whispered softly into the baby's ear and before he could answer with even one mangled word, she had apparated away.

It was as she had expected. As soon as she stood safely on the border to the grounds of The Burrow, Jack began to cry. She held him close and ran a soothing hand over his back. "It's okay, baby, it's okay. We only have to do it once again and then, a little bit of Portkeying, then we'll be in our new home. It's okay, Jack."

"Mummy icky.", he whined, big fat tears falling from his eyes.

"I know, Jack. I know it's icky and if I knew another way, we'd use it but the Floo is even worse, baby. Shhh, sweetie.", she repeated soothing nonsense over and over again until he finally calmed.

Hermione smiled at her boy. She had never known Harry could be like this. But most of the time, she forgot that this was really Harry. In fact, most of the time, she was convinced it was Jack, just Jack.

"Okay, baby, it's time to meet the Weasleys.", she said, more to herself than the toddler. She sat him on her hip, gripped him tighter and walked briskly towards The Burrow, dreading the hour that lay ahead of her.

"Hermione!", Ginny cried from the garden and instantly, Hermione tightened her grip even more on the boy.

"Hello Ginny.", she smiled when she stepped closer.

"You still have that baby.", the Weasley replied, almost disdainfully.

"Lola died.", Hermione did her best to do the impression of a grieving relative and she considered that she did it quite well, nuzzling Jack's hair with her nose.

"Lola?"

"My cousin. Jack's mum."

"Mummy!", Jack repeated.

"Yes, I'm your mummy now.", Hermione smiled, and tried to do so a little sadly. "Shall we go in? I think Ron and your family ought to know."

"Are you taking him to Italy with you?", she asked, walking with Hermione.

"Yes. Of course. I can't put him into an orphanage."

"But isn't he a muggle?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "It's a child.", she said with some conviction and walked a little faster. "Jack, you be good, okay?", she whispered just before she walked into the house and waited for the assault of Weasleys.

* * *

The grappa was extraordinarily good, Rome exceptionally warm, his clothes, albeit muggle, comfortable and the masses of tourists fun – even for his standards – to watch. Just one more sip of his grappa though and then he had to return to his flat, otherwise he would probably make his way to the Knockturn Alley of Muggle Rome. He would, no doubt about that, find that area of the city. Sooner or later. Not tonight. Or maybe tonight was perfect. So long without the solace only a woman – bought or not – could provide. Why should he keep celibate? There was absolutely no need. There hadn't been in France. There wouldn't be here. And he didn't see any moral issue not to pay for that. Merlin – no, he should stop using those expletives, muggle ones would do better – hell, those women made their living with it.

Not tonight. Tonight he needed to return to his flat alone. Another night alone. What was the difference? He had made this choice.

"You did this, Snape.", he reminded himself very softly, taking another swig of the grappa. "You did this to yourself and you have to live with the consequences. You decided to leave your wand. You decided it would be better if people thought you were dead."

Maybe – only maybe, Severus Snape really was dead now. No, surely he was.

And Jack Torrance went to find a woman of easy virtue.

**

* * *

**

"Hermione!", Molly engulfed the girl in a huge hug and almost squashed Jack in the process.

"Careful.", Hermione pushed away with one arm, the other holding on tightly to the toddler. "You'll kill Jack.", she muttered.

"Jack?", Molly's eyes fell on him. "Ronald Weasley!", she shouted and only with a lot of talking to the baby, Hermione could keep him from crying again.

"Ronald Weasley, you did this to this girl and then left her?", she yelled at her son as he was coming down the stairs – hand in hand, incidentally – with Lavender Brown.

"I didn't do anything.", he paled.

"Missus Weasley, I can explain.", Hermione shook her head. "It's neither mine nor Ron's."

"What? Whose is it then? Arthur?", she yelled the last bit.

"Molly?", the red-headed patriarch (nominally, at least), came into the house as well, accompanied by Bill and Fleur Weasley and their child.

"Hermione's got a child.", she gasped.

"Hermione, Hermione.", Bill tutted, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

"If you'd let me explain.", she rubbed her hand over Jack's back. "He's not mine. Well, he is now."

"How come?", Arthur asked curiously, motioning her to sit down. Hermione nodded gratefully. Jack was getting rather heavy after a moment. She gladly sat him down on her lap and let him play with her fingers.

"He's the son of my cousin Lola. Jack, that's his name, was showing signs of a little magic before. Just a little, mind, but we thought that maybe I really had a wizard, or Squib, great-grandmother or something. Anyway, I promised I'll babysit over the weekend because she had to go to a wedding with her husband. On her way there – uh.", she swallowed hard, "on her way there, hers and her husband's car was hit by an army lorry.", she ended. "They're both...uhm...", she fought with the tears and nobody realized they weren't real.

"Oh Merlin's pants.", Molly gasped and went to hug the younger woman again. "I'm so sorry.", she kept her in her arms for a while. Actually, she kept her in her arms until Jack pushed her away and began to whine.

"I thought I should let you know before I went to Italy."

"You will go to Italy with the little lad?", Bill asked.

"Yes.", she nodded, grateful that one of them was keeping his head. Well, he and Arthur, who looked at her, sympathy in his eyes. She gave him a little smile. "Actually, I just wanted to say good bye. I won't be able to stay long but I wanted to tell you all that you're welcome to come and visit me. I uh, I guess that Jack and I will have room enough.", she ended, giving Lavender her most evil glare. That chit would certainly not be welcome.

"We'll be sure to visit.", Ron said, however, quite rapidly.

"Really?", Hermione smiled sweetly and was glad that Jack chose that moment to turn in her lap to grab her nose. That hid her rolling eyes. Him? Certainly not. Wanting to take that sweet child away from her.

"Mummy, ack, ly.", he babbled.

"Yes, Jack. We'll go to Italy.", she smiled and kissed the baby who grimaced, then clapped his cute, little fat hands against her cheeks.

**

* * *

**

It was second nature to Severus Snape to find the seedier sides of a town. And so it didn't pose a problem to find that certain side of Rome for Jack Torrance. He eyed some of the – well – women there with an almost medical eye. One was there, red-head, but blue eyes. No, too much resemblance. Another one caught his eye and she was quite pretty with her long legs, high heels, the tight top, the brown hair in a ponytail but just as he stalked towards her, there was another – well – customer just before him and that man, black clothes, almost violently, dragged her into a dark alley.

Something about that man who had dragged the woman – well – more of a girl really – 25, tops – away seemed odd to Severus and Jack disappeared quite quickly somewhere deep inside the inner workings of his mind. His right hand was frantically looking for his wand in the left side of his robes before he realized that he didn't wear robes. And – worse – that he didn't have a wand. But something was wrong.

And something was even worse when he heard a piercing scream, then, deathly silence. And the other loose women all looked furtively around, then scattered in all directions, as fast as they could go in their – literally – obscenely high heels.

Severus wouldn't be stopped now.

He wasn't Jack at that moment. He was the spy. And he was the saviour of about five or six dozen muggles, the same person who had snatched them from the claws of the Dark Lord. And the dirty hands of Lucius Malfoy. And all the other dirty parts the other Death Eaters had.

He broke into a run, focusing. No wand. His fists, his hands, his feet. But he was rested. He wasn't under the effects of the Cruciatus Curse. He was fine. And that monster would stand no chance to get what he wanted from that poor girl.

**

* * *

**

"Say good bye, Jack.", Hermione said loudly, grabbing his hand and made a waving motion.

"Bye!", Jack yelled, almost too loudly for Hermione to hear. She sniggered, then, deciding to take him by surprise, she simply apparated. Without having said good bye herself. The Weasleys were no longer part of her family. Her little family. Her and Jack.

In fact, she made her way straight to London, having deposited her luggage there. Her whole life in six boxes she had charmed smaller and lighter. Her whole life. In four boxes. Jack's life in two. Books in three of the four boxes. The rest in one. Except her clothes. Those were together with Jack's. But still. It was ridiculously little. She shrugged.

"It doesn't matter, does it, Jack?", she asked the child, still a bit shocked by the apparating. But the quickness of it all had taken a lot of the strain of him and she knew she would have to distract him right before, and right after the Portkey. That would stop him from crying and feeling weird. Children were simple. Sometimes, at least.

"Okay, Jack.", she smiled at the boy, "now we'll take the Portkey and in about three minutes we'll be in our new home.", she stuffed the boxes into her robes. "And I heard it's all already furnished and you're to have a lovely nursery, but of course, if you like, you can sleep in my bed for the time being, I don't care.", she still talked as she touched her finger to the gum wrapper. "Actually, I think I like you in my bed, baby. It's nice that you need me like this and I think I needed you. I think you knew what you were doing, didn't you?", the squeezing, pushing, stormy, horrible sensation of Portkeying washed over her and she held on very tight to Jack. In what seemed like a moment, it was over and despite her own breathlessness, she continued to talk, totally surprising the toddler. "Of course you knew what you were doing. You knew you weren't only doing this for your own good but also for mine. Getting me away from Ron that way – brilliant plan, my sweet."

"Miss Granger?", a small, greenish House Elf asked her, bowing low, the ear twitching nervously.

Jack seemed startled enough by the creature but instead of crying, he simply hid his face in his mother's neck, his little, tiny, sweaty hands gripping her neck.

"Yes. What's your name?", Hermione asked, never forgetting to rub Jack's back.

"I'm Toffee, ma'am. I'm your and the young master's personal help."

"Nice to meet you, Toffee.", Hermione smiled friendly. "I think this little one is tired. Would you just show us around? It is late and I'd very much like to unpack."

"Toffee will unpack for you. Toffee will give you a quick tour and then ma'am can just go to sleep.", the elf smiled happily.

"Thank you, Toffee.", Hermione smiled and followed the creature around the house. Mansion. Embassy. Jack would have room to grow here.

**

* * *

**

"Get your hands off her.", he growled, his voice not having lost its touch. There was no doubt in his mind what this man was about to do. None at all. But he had come in time. He received no answer and it was fine. Quickly, silently, he was standing over the man and grabbed him by the collar. "Let go off her.", he pulled him up, not caring that the man's trousers fell to his ankles. He didn't stop for one moment and instead, punched him heavily on his nose. "I know you bastard probably don't understand me but I don't bloody care. You get out of here or I'll kick you into next week.", he said, low, threateningly, holding the man with the bleeding nose tightly on the scruff of his neck, while his other hand, turned into a fist, threatened his nose with another punch.

"Go. Now!", his voice was deadly and the man – Severus wasn't sure whether he was an Italian, an Englishman who had understood him, or any other nationality – ran as fast as he could.

He was, however, almost knocked on the ground a millisecond later. The poor girl – on close inspection no older than 18, if that – clung tightly to his neck.

"Grazie.", she breathed. "Grazie tante. Grazie mille. Grazie. Grazie."

Severus rolled his eyes and tried to loosen her hold on his neck.

"It was nothing. I had to."

"Thank you.", she said in broken English and a second later, she had completely broken down, her face buried in his muggle shirt, sobbing violently, uncontrollably.

He rolled his eyes. Always those situations. Always. Ever so slowly and hesitantly, he brought his hands up to her back and patted her. "There, there.", he heard a voice say and noticed only after a moment that it was his own, "it's alright now. There. No one's going to hurt you."

She clung tightly to him and spoke in rapid Italian to him and Severus wondered if he had turned into Jack again as he hugged her tightly, consoling her with soft, English, soothing words.

**

* * *

**

Hermione lay next to Jack, stroking his soft cheek with the back of her finger. He was staring at her, wide-eyed.

"We're in our new home, baby.", she whispered softly. "We're home and we'll stay here. And you will truly get a new life. In a new country.", she laughed a little. "Isn't it ironic? You told everyone you were travelling around the world and now, you're truly in another country."

"Mummy.", he simply said and scooted into her arms, snuggling into her chest and Hermione held him to herself.

"My son.", she whispered into his light brown hair.

**_

* * *

_**

**_'hit by an army lorry' - quote from ? Hint: There is a play (English, not American), not that old (I doubt the Bard would have talked about lorries...;)) and a film based on the play. Name me either one and you'll get a wish free. Honest. A plot wish. Or anything. A suggestion. _**

**_Reviews? Very, very, very welcome. No, actually, I crave them. Please?_**

**_

* * *

_**

**_The references:_**

**_Stratford-Upon-Avon: Shakespeare's birthplace_**

**_Jack Torrance: Main character in 'The Shining' (Severus watching 'The Shining - the thought's hilarious, right?)_**

**_Face/Off: Film with Nicholas Chage and John Travolta_**

**_Lola and Tony: Characters in Barry Manilow's Copacabana_**

**_Jack Torrance's birthdate, November 30th: nobody got that - sad - but it's Winston Churchill's birthdate_**

**_The name Mick was coincidental and, as _**_**harry's~girl pointed out, Jack and Lola is a store for baby-things. I didn't know that. Tapetta is coincidental, as I was thinking of a name for that guy and was staring at my wallpaper, thinking I'd like a new one in my flat. 'Tapete' is the German word for wallpaper and I went from there. Lola had nothing to do with Lolita. I should know, but I can't remember the name of the boy she ends up with. Sorry!**_

_**That's it. **_

_**Liked the game? We could continue, you know?**_

__


	5. SPQR

_**The usual disclaimers apply**_

_**Dedicated to:**_

_**Aelirenn **_

_**lilsnape **_

_**angeleye68 **_

_**who found at least two references in Chapter three!**_

* * *

Grazie, Mister, grazie.", she still sobbed into his shirt.

"It's okay.", he replied and pushed her slightly away.

"No, don't leave, Mister.", she gasped and held on tighter to him, clutching the shirt, wrinkling it in the process. "Please.", she begged.

He rolled his eyes, knowing that he wouldn't get rid of the girl. "What's your name?", he asked.

"Letitia, Mister.", she replied, her accent heavy.

"Letitia. How old are you?"

She shook her head. She obviously didn't want to tell him.

"Listen, girl. You need to tell me how old you are. We need to get you to the proper authorities.", obviously he had turned into Jack again.

"No, please. No.", she fell to her knees. "No."

"No.", he repeated, turned his back on her and walked away – unaware that he was still trying to find his wand in the pockets of his robes.

"Go home, girl", he growled, not even trying to keep the teacher out of his voice, out of his persona as she followed him, her hands on the back of his shirt. He turned and she clung to him again.

"No home, mister.", she replied, let go off his shirt and sunk to the dirty ground. She crouched and tried very hard to keep her knees together. Apparently, she wasn't wearing any underwear.

"Where do you sleep then?", he asked, unsure why he wanted to help now. He had done his duty, he had rescued her, now – now she should go her way.

She shrugged, pulled her legs closer and hid her face sideways on her knees. Her small frame was shaken by suppressed sobs.

"How old are you, girl?"

"Quindici.", she mumbled.

"Quin...? What?", he asked, bending now to her. "How old? Preferably in English."

She looked into his dark eyes and shivered for only a second. Those eyes left her no choice. "F-f-ive-teen, Mister.", she stuttered.

"Fifteen? Oh for Me...God's sake.", he muttered. "Come one, we'll find you a room somewhere."

Her eyes went wide and Severus had a hard time not to take his robes off and wrap them around her. Of course he wore no robes and he couldn't very well take his shirt off. She scrambled up and looked fearfully around.

Obviously she was still afraid that her attacker could be around somewhere. Severus decided that he needed a knife or something – some weapon. Or get a wand – though how he would get it without revealing who he was was completely beyond him at the moment. He was only mildly surprised when she clutched his arm and pressed herself close to him. Fifteen. Fifteen – Me...Hell, she was a girl. And he supposed underneath all that make-up, all those grown-up clothes, obscenely revealing grown-up clothes, she really looked like a girl still.

"Do you have clothes somewhere?"

She shook her head. "No want to get them."

He grunted and understood. And he had probably just gotten between a girl and someone who wanted more than to rape her. But he couldn't let her live in his place, could he? It would probably be safest. He wrecked his brain and didn't notice that she held on even tighter to him. It was late. She couldn't get new clothes anywhere that night. He had a few things. He had a bed.

And if he had a wand, nothing would be a problem. Damn him and his ideas.

For the first time in years, he regretted leaving his wand behind, regretted _dying_ that night.

"Come on, Letitia, you can sleep in my bed tonight.", he grunted, hating his decision already.

* * *

Hermione let Jack walk through the embassy in his own, always a step behind him, keeping an eye on him and smiling. This boy made her smile so much. And nobody would ever find out it was Harry Potter who was Jack Granger. Nobody ever would. That little boy that had opened her eyelids with both his hands this morning because he wanted his mummy to get up. It had been painful. Quite painful. But seeing him running around like this was quite refreshing and she realized how much she loved him.

Not because he was Harry – but because he was Jack. Happy, exuberant, skipping, running, falling Jack. Because he was hers. And she would make damn sure he was safe. And happy.

And she would take some time for him and for herself today. And go and explore the city she would be living in for a while that day.

* * *

He groaned and stretched on the chair. Lucky he had a chair as the girl was in his bed. Seeing her like this, she was extremely young, she was not in the least adult. She was a girl. The long dark hair almost to her waist, wavy, the button nose and the mouth – he couldn't really understand the allure of such a girl for some people – the Lolita. And she was a real Lolita, too young for anything. She should be locked behind bars by her father, her innocence a treasure.

He went into his bathroom and showered. No, Letitia didn't arouse him at all. He was not someone who enjoyed the company of under-age wit...women. He liked them young but not that young. 20, 25, that was alright. Not younger. And certainly not 15.

He heard a muffled cry when he stopped the shower and hurried to get dressed and back into his room.

She sat in bed, her knees pulled up to her chest, her back to the white wall, shivering in his white shirt she had slept in. Her eyes, once again, were wide with fear and he knew, Severus knew, that he had made a mistake in bringing her to his flat.

"Good morning, Letitia.", he said quietly. "I'm not sure I told you my name last night."

She shook her head, the uncertainty written clearly in her features. "No."

"My name is Se...Jack Torrance.", he replied and tried a smile. He knew himself it came out crooked and probably scared her even more.

"Thank you for rescuing me, Jack Torrance.", she looked solemnly at him.

"Did you know that person?"

"Protettore.", she whispered.

He didn't understand that word but knew exactly what it meant. "And you didn't want to do this anymore?"

She shook her head.

"For how long have you been doing it?"

"No.", she shook her head and a tear streaked down her face.

"It's alright.", he grunted gruffly. "We'll find you some clothes and then you need to find somewhere to live."

She nodded slowly. "No home."

"You said that.", he groaned. "Take another shirt and find some of my trousers and we'll get some decent clothes for you. Then we'll find you a place to live."

"Perché?"

"Why what?", he asked, glad that he had picked up a little Italian.

"Why good to me?"

He shrugged. He didn't know. Maybe – maybe Jack decided it was time to finally being allowed to do something good openly. Not only secretly. "Hurry."

* * *

"Jack, look, there's the Trevi-Fountain.", Hermione bent over the handles of the buggy. She had used a mild sticking charm on him. It wouldn't do to lose him in the midst of those many people. And those were a lot of people. He seemed a bit scared of it and didn't even answer her. She walked around the buggy and bent down before him.

"Jack?", she asked, her finger softly stroking his cheek.

"Mummy.", he whined and began to cry. Carefully, she undid the sticking charm, the wand hidden in her pocket, and within seconds, he had fallen in her arms. "Mummy 'ared."

"Are you scared, Jack?", she whispered softly in his ear, kissing his head just above it. She felt him nodding against her shoulder and embracing her fiercely.

"Let's get you an ice-cream or something then.", she got up heavily, her knees cracking, with him in her arms. "I'm getting old", she muttered, kept Jack on her hip and pushed the buggy with her other hand.

She had walked a bit when he got really heavy on her arm. "Jack, can you sit in the buggy again? Or do you want to push it?", she asked gently.

He shook his head vehemently again. "No down, mummy."

She sighed and rapidly looked around. They had probably walked farther than she thought (and she wasn't even sure where exactly they were) but the streets were quieter and between the huge buildings would be a chance to quickly flip her wand out, cast a fast feather-light charm on Jack and then she could carry him back to the Embassy. And let him take his nap.

She disappeared between two houses, and looked around. There was only a middle-aged man with his daughter on the piazza where she had just stood in her line of view. Two muggles, apparently and she was talking quite animatedly to him, obviously explaining her father something. He seemed only partially interested, more annoyed, really, and she really hoped that she wouldn't feel this way about Jack one day in the future. She whipped her wand out, spoke the incantation quietly, then, making sure that the muggle and his daughter hadn't seen her, put it back and, ignoring the two

and walked back to the embassy.

* * *

He knew he had made a mistake in rescuing the girl when she wouldn't stop talking to him in rapid Italian, sometimes a few English words mixed together as soon as he had bought her a decent set of clothes. And she dragged him through the whole city – most of the time he didn't know where he was and while Jack and Severus both enjoyed the architecture of the city, Severus would have gladly done so on his own while Jack somehow was happy about Letitia's company. Only a bit, mind, and it would have been better if she had kept silent. But she certainly knew the city. She talked probably about everything (he didn't know about the parts in Italian only) but herself. He never got more out of her than her name and how old she was. Not where her family was, not where she was at home. But – she had certainly blossomed and had taken a liking to him. And probably – and that was hardest to understand for Severus – trusted him.

At the moment she seemed to be talking about yet another thing that he didn't understand as they walked over a rather lonely piazza. It wasn't a seedy part of town, not dangerous, he knew but it was nowhere close to any sights (well, at least as far as he knew) and people probably worked in those buildings and didn't walk around idly. Jack still checked around for any potential danger but he only saw a young woman with her son on her arm. He wouldn't have looked a second time if Severus hadn't noticed the bushy hair. Only one person in the whole wide world had such hair, or not?

He looked again and she seemed to do the same and their eyes met for only a brief second and yet, it was her that looked away. There was no doubt in Severus' mind that it was her. Hermione Granger. A third of the bloody golden trio. Before he could stop himself, a wave of memories washed over him and he felt the bile rising in his throat. No, he wouldn't want to go back but what was she doing there? What was Hermione Granger doing with a child – the lack of red hair told him it couldn't be a Weasley – in Rome?

And if he hadn't been certain it was her, in the moment that she took her wand out of the back-pocket of her trousers, muggle Jeans as well, and pointed it at the child, apparently casting a feather-light on it, him? her? it was beyond reproach. Hermione Granger in Rome.

She had put it away again quite quickly and the decision he made in that moment was not a conscious one. It was nothing that he could even rationally reason with with himself. And yet, he pretended to listen attentively to Letitia, then motioned her to follow him and he, at the right distance – followed her and the child. A child that seemed somehow familiar. But it would be, wouldn't it? Hermione Granger, the one female he had always had down in his book as a career-witch with a baby.

And she hadn't recognized him.

Of course he didn't know where they were going. He had only been in the city for a few weeks. But he knew it was one of the better districts. He still saw her but she was so taken with the child, it seemed to babble constantly and she seemed to pay so much attention to it that she never once looked over her shoulder.

Still so artless. Being tortured at Malfoy Manor like this and still so careless. Being in the Battle of Hogwarts, or so he thought, and still so much a girl. Seeing him _die_, still never looking over her shoulder. Under his tutoring, she wouldn't be like this. Why hadn't he taught them better?

"Mister, where are we going?", Letitia asked him quietly, almost breaking into a run to keep up with him.

"Be quiet.", he growled and quickened his steps when Granger rounded a corner.

He stopped and for the first time in years, gasped.

"Letitia, what is this?", he asked curiously, quietly, pointing discreetly at the building Granger had just disappeared into.

"I never see this ruin before, Mister Jack.", she frowned.

__


	6. Watching

**_The usual disclaimers apply_**

**_

* * *

_**

He stood, transfixed. It was a marble white huge house, more like a mansion, columns in the front. He wouldn't know, of course, what it looked like for a muggle and he couldn't ask Letitia. That would give something away. That would give Jack away.

The question boring into his head at that moment was rather what that building was. A hospital he had never heard of? It couldn't be the Ministry. That appeared for the muggles as the House of the Vestal Virgins on the Roman Forum and was only accessible through the underground. But what was that building then? He couldn't go any closer – that would give him away. No, but he would...yes. He would return without Letitia. Watch what was going on. He hadn't been a spy for such a long time without learning a thing or two.

He gripped the girl's arm and pulled her away. "You need a place to live.", he said quietly.

"Stay with you.", she replied simply.

"You cannot stay with me.", he growled. "I have only one bed..."

"You stay in bed with me.", she looked at him with big, brown eyes.

"Like Me...hell I will."

"But you could be prottetore."

"You will find a place to stay or I'll put you in an orphanage.", he threatened and was surprised by her reaction. She pressed herself up against the building they were walking close by and almost cowered against it.

"No orfanotrofio.", she whispered over and over again. "No orfanotrofio."

"Okay, no orphanage then. But you cannot stay with me.", he coaxed her away by taking her arm and pulling her with him. "There has to be another way. And you should go to school."

She shrugged and followed him obediently.

* * *

Hermione brought little Jack to his cot, then went to her official study. She needed to find a grasp on things. Needed to find out who she was working with. There were people out there, still closely working with the Wizarding Government in England she didn't want to see again in her life. The Malfoys, for instance, all three having gotten away from the clutches of justice, of course. A well-filled vault at Gringotts would do that for you. And she didn't want to see them again. True, Lucius by now was a wreck – rumour said that he couldn't even walk alone anymore and his mind was slowly falling to pieces. Narcissa – rumour again – had become a recluse, more or less, not knowing friend from foe. And Draco? Draco lived apparently on his family's money.

And she really didn't want to deal with them. At least not on a regular basis.

There were papers on piles on her desk and she sat down, eagerly picking up one after the other. A lot of the papers were lists of things to do. Not things she had to do, actually, but rather things that had to be dealt with. Then, of course, people she would have to meet - the Italian Minister of Magic, other Italians, English Wizards in Italy, especially those who did business, the most important one Blotts from Flourish and Blotts who was now expanding into Italy. She apparently also had an aide but he or she would start the week after. And she didn't have to do anything until then. Except getting acquainted to the premises and she knew there was a visit from Kingsley Shacklebolt to Italy sometime during the next month and she would have to delegate organising a dinner.

All in all – her job wasn't hard. And she wasn't sure whether she liked it. But she had Jack to look after now and he was top priority. Being there for him and protecting him.

She called Toffee, the house elf on a whim.

"Yes, Mistress?"

"Toffee, is there a way somehow here to practise duelling?", she asked curiously.

"Toffee can set something up."

"Could you probably do that, please."

The elf nodded and disappeared.

She really needed to work on her defences and her spells. After the war, somehow things had gotten sloppy and she had someone to look after now.

* * *

There was a bench across the street from the building Hermione Granger had disappeared into the day before and Severus sat on it, for the first time wishing he hadn't vowed never to use wandless magic again. He was sure, very sure, he could do it but what was the use? He was a muggle now. He was Jack Torrance now. Severus Snape had died in the Shrieking Shack.

Somehow, Severus couldn't understand that he could never kill the Wizard in himself.

He had brought Letitia to a home for young girls who couldn't go home that morning. Of course she had spent the night in his bed again but he wouldn't be able to stand another night in his chair and he certainly wouldn't buy a second bed. That home would be good – and in case there was something wrong, Letitia knew his address. And as soon as he would acquire one of those prontos, he would go to her and give her his number. He assumed those things had some kind of phone number, but he would find out for sure. After he had discovered what Hermione Granger was doing, so carelessly, in Rome.

Half a day passed and it was getting colder as the sun had disappeared behind the building and she was nowhere in sight. In fact, nobody was going in or out . It just stood there, marble white and quiet.

For a moment, more than one moment, he doubted his own mind. He wasn't sure anymore whether she had really gone in there. But then why hadn't Letitia seen it? It was indeed some kind of magical building but what?

Did she live there now? There was no sight of a Weasley or Potter, Merlin forbid. But Granger somewhere alone without those two imbeciles? Dunderheads? No, they had been inseparable before the war. Why would they be any different now? She, the brilliant one, had always clung to them, had always helped them. Whether they actually deserved it or not. Not. But then again, they wouldn't have defeated Him. And then he would still be Headmaster, probably, still be hated by the entire wizarding world, he would still be alive. And Potter wouldn't have his memories. Silly move on his part. And one he regretted deeply.

No.

He wasn't Severus Tobias Snape anymore. When would that get into his head?

Jack Torrance.

Simple.

He rubbed his temple, feeling a headache coming on, when he noticed some movement. Yes. There she was. With the child again.

* * *

"Come on Jack, we'll go grab some dinner.", the baby held her hand and smiled toothily up at her. "Okay?"

"Kay.", he repeated and was patient while his mummy put him in a coat. She was always so careful doing it.

She cast a feather-light charm on him again, in case she would have to carry him again, then put him in the buggy and walked out of the embassy. She looked around. The training session earlier with a dummy Toffee had set up had helped. She was more aware now. A bit, at least.

Odd, that was. The muggle who had been on that piazza the day before with his daughter was sitting on a bench just across the road from the embassy. She was glad she was wearing a kind of parka herself and she could store the wand inside. Slowly, her hand wandered to it and she gripped it tightly. She would make sure this was only a coincidence.

She walked towards a restaurant on the Piazza Navona she had read in a guide about, constantly looking over her shoulder. The muggle wasn't there. Coincidence then. She sighed a breath of relief and waited to be seated, then, with Jack on her lap, decided to enjoy her first night out in Rome.

* * *

Thank Merlin she was more cautious now. Still, the tiny glimpses she threw over her shoulder weren't enough. Not nearly enough. He could still follow her and she didn't even notice. Surely, she was, he almost spat the thought, constantly vigilant, but never enough.

So, Hermione Granger had a child and didn't even give a second thought to protecting it. Silly girl. Didn't she know that it wasn't safe? Didn't she know that there were still people who would want to harm her? She was a muggle-born, for Merlin's sake. He might be dead – forever – but there were still people who wouldn't want her to be happy and alive like this. With a child.

Not that he cared. But she was quite silly for just sitting there, the wand obviously in the pocket of her muggle coat, completely out of reach. He remembered having a coat like this sometime in the Seventies. A worn coat straight from the charity shop. It had been blue and the left pocket had had a huge hole.

And why was he remembering that now?

Perfect place thought, this square. Lots of people. He could mix and still keep an eye on her.

* * *

"Jack!", she cried as the little one took off quite suddenly and ran away from the table she was seated on out onto the piazza. She got up suddenly, then grabbed her parka. Her wand was in there after all, but she couldn't use it there, could she?

He ran and suddenly, was swallowed by the crowd of people mingling, walking about, on Piazza Navona. Hermione broke out in cold sweat and pushed people away, trying to follow the boy. For one second she had paid more attention to the pasta. Damn muggle places. She hadn't even had the chance to put a sticking charm on him and the chair and now he was gone.

This panic was worse than what she had felt at Malfoy Manor. This wasn't about her life. Hers was quite worthless compared to his and now he was lost amongst stupid muggles. And she couldn't use her wand. Damn secrecy.

It was cold sweat, panic, shaking limbs and pushing people aside. She had to find him, just find him. Jack, where was he?

* * *

Stupid child for taking off like this. She wasn't careful enough. She could have used her wand in her pocket to place a charm. Silly girl for not doing that. And now – once again – it was up to him to rescue her. Or her child. It didn't really matter.

He took a step aside and the baby – how would he know what sex it had? Or how old it was? - practically ran into his arms. He picked it up with ease. Hermione Granger's child would be a very important target for anyone still believing in His ways.

"And who are you?", he grunted at the child, holding it a bit awkwardly. Also awkwardly, the baby shifted in his arms and suddenly it felt quite comfortable. Not heavy at all. Apparently, she had had the idea to put a feather-light charm on it again.

"Daddy.", the baby laughed, spit gathering at the corners of his mouth.

"Not at all.", he replied, scowling. "I'm certainly not your daddy."

"Daddy!", it replied again.

"No.", he held it father away from him but somehow, the little thing clung to him tighter, its little fists clutched to the fabric of his shirt. "Let go, child.", he threatened but the baby simply shook its head. He groaned, then walked towards the restaurant where she had sat.

* * *

She breathed shallowly, unsteadily. He was nowhere. Nowhere. "Jack!", she cried again.

"Is that Jack?", a voice asked behind her. Hermione spun around and saw her baby on the arms of some stranger. "Thank you.", she gasped and rapidly took him from the muggle's arms.

__


	7. Stealth

**_The usual disclaimers apply._**

* * *

She kissed Jack all over his face. "Thank Merlin you're safe, baby. Oh God, I was so bloody worried about you."

Severus turned, but before he did, he took a close look at the child. Apparently it was a boy. But would Hermione Granger – _Hermione _– really choose such a plain name? He looked somehow familiar but then again, he had taught the girl for too many years and he knew her features.

And yet – the baby didn't look like her. It looked more like. No.

No. Potter's brat? Little Jack? James – Jack? No, that was an abbreviation for John. But he did look a bit like...Lily.

No, it couldn't be. Granger and Potter? Where was he then? He was many things but he had never taken him for irresponsible.

"Jack!", a voice behind him cried and it took him a moment to realize it was him the voice was calling. So much for thinking quietly. He turned around and before he knew it, the girl, Letitia, was in his arms, clinging to his neck.

"Jack, me happy seeing you.", she gasped.

"Letitia, why are you here?"

"Can't stay in place. Please? Bring materassino.", she pointed at a rolled together air mattress and a bag-pack. "And bring clothes."

"You know you cannot stay with me.", he disentangled her arms from around him and looked deeply into her eyes. "I'm not your pimp and never will be."

"What pimp?"

"Protettore.", he explained in Italian.

"No, not that. Please. Don't want to do that again."

"You don't have to do it again.", he groaned. "But you cannot stay with me."

"Will go to school. Need only a place to sleep."

He rolled his eyes and felt Jack again. "Come on then.", he said softly. "But you'll be sleeping on the floor, not me."

* * *

She looked rapidly around. The stranger had been the muggle with the daughter, hadn't it? He seemed so familiar. It most certainly had been him.

"Jack, was the person finding you the muggle across the embassy?", she asked the baby but he was just laying his head on the crook of her neck and snuggled close. She was certain it was him. And then he had followed her. She needed more exercise. More vigilance. More sessions with the training dummy. Apparently she was completely out of shape. Not good, not good at all.

Slowly, she walked back to the restaurant, where the waiter already waited impatiently for her. She paid her bill, gave a massive tip and disappeared quickly. Home. Or what would be her home.

That muggle didn't get out of her head. He had been not bad looking. A bit older than she was – around thirty-five, probably, with those damn sexy greying streaks of hair, especially on the side of his head. His eyes had been so dark, almost black. Somehow familiar.

And his voice. Well, if the stranger was indeed the muggle, then his voice was like velvet pouring down her ear, straight to her stomach. At least she thought so, but then again – she had been so overwhelmed with finding Jack again that only now she remembered his voice. It had been lovely. Sexy. Somehow familiar.

And yet – she couldn't quite place the familiarity. Especially since she had only seen him so quickly. Maybe he'd sit on the bench again and she could have a good look at him. Not that he could see her. Good muggle protection the embassy had. Wonderful. So she could look for him without him knowing that she was looking at him, actually. Brilliant plan.

"Mummy, beddy bye.", Jack said firmly, yawned and almost immediately fell asleep in her arms. She was glad, somehow. That muggle simply wouldn't get out of her head.

* * *

"Letitia, I need you to help me.", he choked out the next morning after his shower, after her shower. Separately, of course.

"Yes, Mister Jack?", she asked, nibbling on a piece of bread he had still in his kitchen and drank a huge mug of cafe latte.

"I need a, uhm, pronto."

"A pronto?", she asked. "What's pronto?"

"One of those phones you can carry around.", he explained, rolling his eyes.

"Cellulare?", she frowned. "We will buy cellulare."

"Yes.", he grunted and downed the last of his tea. "Can we go then? And you have to go to school.", he added as an afterthought.

"Scuola. I can life then here?"

He shrugged again. He hated shrugging. No, Severus Snape hated shrugging. Jack Torrance was probably alright with it.

"We can make two rooms.", she explained with her hands. "There. Big enough."

He shook his head. "We'll see. Now let's go buy pronto."

"Cellulare.", she laughed.

* * *

"Ambassador Granger's new assistant coming tomorrow.", Toffee explained as he brought Hermione her morning tea and Jack his milk.

"Would you know who my assistant is going to be?", she asked, helping the little one drinking.

"No, sorry, ambassador.", he shrugged. "But Toffee can punish himself for not knowing."

"No no no no no no no. You won't do that. No punishing yourself in this house. Understood?"

"Yes, ambassador. No punishing.", his ears hung down low.

"Good. Now, I need you to set up the training dummy you had yesterday again. I need to practise."

"Toffee to watch over young Mister Jack?"

"Yes, please. Only for half an hour or so. I will do another half an hour or hour when he's asleep this afternoon."

"Mummy, practi. Ack wats."

"No, baby, you can't watch. It's dangerous when mummy practises.", she explained slowly. "Oh, and Toffee?"

"Yes, ambassador?"

"Can you please look out one of the front windows? Please let me know if there is a muggle sitting on the bench across the road."

"Toffee will do that, ambassador."

"Good.", she said slowly and helped herself to some breakfast.

* * *

"Now, you go and do that partitioning or whatever you called it in my room and stay there.", he told Letitia. "I don't know why I'm doing this.", he added as he watched her walk away slowly. They had bought a bed, it would be delivered shortly, she knew what to do – she knew to check who was coming in, and he had bought her books to learn proper English before they could find a suitable school for her. Or a job. Even though, with fifteen, she still belonged to school. And she was told to study and stay at his flat.

It certainly wouldn't do to have her sit next to him as he was trying to find out who Hermione Granger's baby was and if there was, in fact, a Harry Potter in the picture.

Oh, the poor girl, he thought for a moment. First the Weasley who had been pining after her and had tried to make her jealous with that Brown girl, then Potter. No, she was too good for them. Too smart. Dumb men never wanted smart women. And Potter – as well as Weasley – were dumb. Sheer, dumb luck had brought Voldemort down. And Weasley, he was as reliable as Trelawney's predictions of death and mayhem. Leaving the two of them in the forest all alone. Dumb Weasley.

But then again, she had been there with the child alone. Jack – like him. Odd coincidence. So maybe she had dumped Potter (but hadn't he been romantically linked to the Weasley girl?) and she had left. Had gone to work for anything magical in Rome. As far as he knew, the building could still be a hospital. Or a bank. But Gringotts was close to the Italian Ministry. Maybe something else.

He hadn't kept up with the wizarding world.

He had bought an Italian book. Dante, in fact, and it had been after lunch (the girl had needed hours to pick a bed and fabric to make a curtain between their two beds and he had needed some time to pick a pronto) that he sat down on the bench across the strange building. He could make out a plaque or something on the front door but he didn't dare to go closer. No.

It was a miracle by itself that she hadn't recognized him. But then again – she had never paid close attention to him, had she? All those years, all those potion lessons. Nothing. She couldn't even remember him.

Potions. He missed that, even if he hated admitting it. The quietness of the lab, the fumes, the things one could do with a potion. He had been so close – so close to developing a counterpotion to the Cruciatus. So close. Then that snake. She shook his head. No, it wouldn't do to think about it. But well, he had been close. A week more. A few hours. One ingredient. Maybe it still stood there – a stasis charm over the cauldron, maybe it still was there somewhere deep in the belly of the castle in the lab nobody but him could access.

Potions. He breathed deeply. Never again.

He looked up and saw the outline of a woman.

* * *

"Ambassador Granger, a muggle-man is sitting on the bench, I think.", Toffee popped into the room she was practising duelling in just as she was throwing curse after hex after jinx at the dummy.

"Thank you.", she panted in her sweatpants and muggle tank top. She hated wizarding robes for duelling. She tried to get her breath under control and stopped the dummy with a flick of the wand Toffee had shown her. "Can you tell me which window is best to see him?"

"The one in your study, ambassador.", the elf replied and had popped away before she could ask another question.

She took a drink from the bottle of water she had brought with her and hoped that Jack was still asleep as she made her way up to her study. Maybe she could find out who he was – and more importantly, why he was practically stalking her. Or maybe – though she didn't believe it – it was mere coincidence. Again.

Slowly, she made her way to the window and even slowlier pushed the curtains aside. Yes, there he was indeed, reading a book, seemingly. He wouldn't read a book when he was stalking her. Besides – he could only see a ruin, nothing more. She was certain of that one thing – he was a muggle. He showed no sign of being a wizard at all. And as such, all he would see was a ruin. With a nice confundus charm on it. They would notice it was a new ruin. And then, instantly, or almost instantly, would forget about it again.

She observed him and something about him was familiar. The way he raised his eyebrows and the way he turned the pages. She had seen that before. But where?

* * *

There she was, watching him. His eyes were still good and she looked a bit sweaty, a bit tired out. But she was now, nevertheless, pushing the curtains aside quite unstealthily, and looked at him with the greatest of interest. Maybe she was recognizing him. No. That look would have been different. Not curiosity, as it was now – but mere shock and probably fear. True, true. Thanks to his memories (now in possession of Potter, the prat), he had been awarded a lot of nice, shiny badges, orders of Merlin, things like that, posthumously. Not that he cared. He was _dead_ anyway.

Once again, he needed reminding of the fact. And everyone thought of him as being dead. Now – now this chit turned up here and he, somehow, didn't even feel the need to move. Why not?

Letitia? Because he liked the city? Because he felt at home there? Because his curiosity had been spiked why she would be the first witch he had seen in over three years?

No. Deep down, he knew the answer.

* * *

He was familiar. She felt as if she had looked at his hands about a billion times. But she didn't know many muggles that age. A friend of the family? No.

She looked away in his face. Then, suddenly, there was something.

Scowl. He was scowling.

Oh God, she thought.

* * *

Deep down, he knew the answer. He didn't want to leave. He wanted to settle down. And he wanted to lead a quiet life, not being on the run all the time. He scowled, thinking about that.

No, no scowling. Scowling and sneering he couldn't do.

He only hoped that she hadn't seen it. That would most certainly give it away.

* * *

He was dead, wasn't he? She had seen him die. He had stopped breathing. The snake had bitten him.

But the scowl.

His eyes.

His mouth.

His hands.

The voice.

Of course. The voice.

She heard it clearly in her head now. "I can teach you how to ensnare the mind.", something like that. She could hear it. "Is this Jack?"

The same voice.

Severus Snape was sitting on a bench across the road.

No.

Yes.

No.

* * *

He packed his book together, suddenly all senses aware. The look on her face had changed. And he needed to run. He breathed deeply then stood up rapidly. He heard a faint noise and his mind registered it – somehow. Apparating? No.

Yes.

He kept walking, despite the noise. And suddenly, he stood in front of someone, he had never wanted to see again in his life.

"Scusi", he said, keeping his head down and walked rapidly past.

"Bloody bugger.", the person he had almost run into muttered and smiled when they saw the embassy. What a lovely place to work.

* * *

She had to get to him before he could disappear again. She had to. She had to see him close up and she certainly didn't care about her appearance now. She ran down the stairs as far as her legs could carry her and opened the front door.

And ran into a person. The last person on earth she had expected to see.


	8. Assistants and Wards

**_The usual disclaimers apply._**

**_

* * *

_**

"Millicent Bulstrode.", Hermione gasped, beholding the face and body of the person she had just ran into.

"The very same.", she replied, her voice neutral, her face a mask of determination and something that Hermione couldn't understand.

"Erm, what are you doing here?"

"I didn't think you'd recognize me straight away", the young woman replied and as Hermione was looking at her again, she finally noticed that she had changed – slightly. A bit less pug-faced, a little less chubby even, the hair shorter.

"Uh.", Hermione still stuttered, then realized that she was in fact looking for Severus Snape as he had just been there. He couldn't have gotten far. "Did you see the muggle there sitting on the bench?", she asked her former school mate.

"He ran me over.", she shook her head. "You don't mind that I came here a day early, do you?"

"Early?", Hermione still scanned the street for any sights of her former Potions Master. "Early for what?"

"I'm to be your assistant. Do you want me to call you Ambassador, or...? And Minister Shacklebolt said I could live here."

Hermione gave up but the words she had just heard still hadn't registered in her head. "What?"

"He said I could live here.", Millicent repeated.

"Why?"

She sighed. "Didn't you hear me? I know I still lisp the s but the speech therapist said I was otherwise fine.", she mumbled and fidgeted a little. Certainly Hermione Granger didn't want her to be there. It wasn't her fault that Shacklebolt had basically ordered her there. And just because she spoke a little Italian. And...

"No, sorry, I just...my mind was somewhere else."

"I'm to be your assistant.", Millicent explained slowly.

"My assistant?"

She nodded solemnly. "I knew you'd hate it but...", she trailed off and shrugged. "It's not like I fancy working with a bloody Gryffindor myself."

"For, Miss Bulstrode, for.", Hermione corrected her before she stepped aside. "And if you give me all that Pureblood shit, I'll throw you out.", she muttered and didn't see Millicent frowning deeply.

* * *

What was the chubby Slytherin doing in Rome as well? What was going on there? And what the hell was that building? Apparently Bulstrode hadn't noticed him, hadn't recognized him. But Granger. Hermione Granger had and that left him unsettled.

Two problems: One, he wanted to still his curiosity. Apparently, that building was something important – or something wizarding at least and Millicent Bulstrode, as well as Hermione Granger were there. Two, if he went near that building again to find out what it was, he would be found out and Granger would be quicker and might want to follow him.

Lucky, really, that he gotten away like this.

A confrontation with her was the last thing he wanted.

Simple. It was very simple indeed. Or was it?

The simple solution was to go back to being Jack Torrance. Full time. Let Severus Tobias Snape really _die_ – even inside of him. Kill the last bit of wizard that was in himself.

And yet, he knew that he probably couldn't do that. Too deeply ingrained was the spy, the teacher, despite the many years he had spent in the muggle world – _dead_ in the other. Three years, two months, 14 days, 22 hours and 17 minutes since he had _died_. Compared to the many, many, many years, months, days, hours and minutes he had been a wizard – when he had defined himself solely by wizarding attributes. Potions Master, part of the Hogwarts staff, Head of Slytherin House, Death Eater, member of the Order of the Phoenix, this was nothing.

As Severus or Jack – he couldn't decide – he didn't want to decide – strode down the Via Nazionale, he wondered whatever was going on now at Hogwarts. In the wizarding world in Great Britain. No doubt there would be biographies written about him – no doubt Minerva McGonagall – the old hag – was Headmistress – no doubt Harry Potter was the hero and everyone toasted him at every meal. No doubt he would still be lynched if he went back there and someone recognized him.

Bad idea to seek out Granger. Very, very bad idea.

Somehow, Severus Tobias Snape had to die.

* * *

"Mummy!", Jack ran towards Hermione just as she was walking through the Entrance Hall of the embassy with Millicent Bulstrode. He fell forward just as she wanted to catch him but he only smiled and lifted his arms towards her.

"Is he yours?", Millicent asked softly without malice in her voice, eyeing the child curiously.

"Yes.", Hermione replied sullenly as she picked up the baby. "Right, Jack?", she asked, smilingly.

"Mummy ractise. Ack watch.", he babbled.

Millicent moved forwards, lifted her hand, then dropped it again, as if she had changed her mind about touching the toddler. She didn't dare to say another word.

"Do you want to call Toffee, baby?", she whispered softly, kissing Jack on the cheek.

"Toffee.", he repeated proudly.

"You called, ambassador?", the house elf appeared suddenly.

"Apparently, Miss Bulstrode is my assistant, Toffee. Would you show her to her rooms?", she asked, then added, quietly, "if there are any rooms for her."

"Certainly, ambassador.", he nodded, his ears twitching. "Miss Bulstrode, would you follow me?"

The young woman nodded, breathed deeply and walked after the house elf, fully aware that her new boss was watching her every move.

"Now, what do we make of that?", Hermione asked her boy and carried him back to their rooms.

She hadn't kept up with her at all – in fact, she didn't know anything about her, apart from the fact that she had apparently had a cat (dumb accident, really), that she had attacked her physically in their second year when she wasn't supposed to touch her, and that she had been part of Umbridge's Inquisitorial Squad. She knew absolutely nothing about Millicent Bulstrode at all. But she would not be bullied by a dumb, fat Slytherin girl.

* * *

"Letitia?", he called angrily as he had carefully closed the door to his flat behind him.

"Yes?", she smiled at him, wide-eyed and pointed at the curtain she made that now separated her bed from his.

He grunted in response, then looked at her quizzically. "School?", he simply asked.

"No scuola."

"Si scuola.", he answered rapidly. "And parents."

"No parents."

"Yes, I know, orphanage.", he sighed. "We'll go in the morning to find a school."

"No, Mister Jack."

"Yes, Miss Letitia. School.", he mocked, then thought, quietly, that he sounded almost like a father, and he didn't like that at all. "Or you get out.", even more fatherly. Damn.

She sighed and with a huff, disappeared behind the curtain, leaving him feeling very weird. How had he come to this, he wondered. He had simply wanted to save her from being violated in the most horrible way – and now he was stuck with her.

Sweet irony – he wanted a quiet life in Rome, wanted to come to peace in this eternal city. Now – now he had more troubles than he had for three years when he had simply been afraid to run across the Malfoys, Crabbes, Goyles, all the other Death Eaters of England. Letitia Sans Surname who was apparently now constantly living with him and who looked upon him as a kind of father-figure to her teenage antics, and then Hermione Granger – and so obviously now also Millicent Bulstrode – two of the banes of his existence when he had still been Severus Snape. The one, because she was a bloody Gryffindor know-it-all, and the other, because she had been a – boiled down to the mere facts – poor half-blood who had tried to fit in into Slytherin but who had obviously been sorted wrong and had mixed with the wrong crowd just to be accepted.

He rubbed his temple as he remembered the first night, during her first year, that he had found her outside the Slytherin common room. Nobody had taken her seriously. Not even him, really, thinking back on it. Well, he had tried to help – and it hadn't helped until she had resorted to physicality and had gone along with the bullying ways of Pansy Parkinson. And yet – reminiscing about those days – the chubby little girl, not pretty at all, should have rather been sorted into Hufflepuff, especially considering how loyal she had been to the wrong sort of people.

He scowled. "Letitia?", he called and when she didn't answer for a few moments, he repeated her name.

Testily, she pushed the curtain aside and glared at him.

"We'll go out to dinner.", he stated and stood up.

* * *

As Hermione ate dinner with Jack, Millicent was in her new room, knelled on the floor and had her head stuck into the fireplace. She waited patiently. She was used to this but the waiting was worth it. As always.

"Chubbs, what is it?", her boyfriend asked concernedly.

"It was as expected.", Millie closed her eyes quickly and grimaced.

"What part? Did she give you trouble?"

"Quote 'if you give me all that Pureblood shit, I'll throw you out' unquote."

He laughed. "My poor little half-blood baby.", he whispered. "Would you like to come through?"

She shook her head. "If I come through, I'll never be back in time. And..."

"That's entirely possible.", he leered. "When will I expect you though?"

"You could come here over the weekend.", Millicent suggested. "It seems quite nice."

He shook his head sadly, quickly glanced over his shoulder and returned his gaze at her, smiling lovingly. "I can't. My mother is...", he stopped to breathe and swallow, "and my father..."

"I'm sorry, love.", she whispered back.

"It's okay. I'm used to it."

"I know. Still – I don't see why you can't..."

"Millie, I can't this weekend. If mother notices I'm even talking to you right now, she'll give me hell. And she'll run to my father and he'll threaten me again.", he almost whined but cleared his throat before.

"Oh Draco.", she sighed. "We'll find a way. I'm here now and maybe they'll calm down."

"I miss you.", he whispered softly.

"I miss you too, baby.", she smiled. "And don't worry. It'll be alright."

"Did I tell you that I love you?"

Millicent laughed. "Just before I left."

"I must be getting old for not remembering. I love you, Millie."

"I love you too, Draco.", she sighed. "I better get to bed. I bet she'll expect more of me than anyone else."

"Millie?", he stopped her just as she was about to pull her head away from the fireplace.

"Mh?"

"You know why Kingsley sent you there, right?"

She nodded. "Yes, I know. And I'll do my bloody best to live up even to Hermione Granger's absurd expectations."

"You'll do great.", he smiled encouragingly. "Consider yourself hugged."

* * *

Hermione kept Jack in her room that night. She wasn't sure what she thought about Millicent Bulstrode. She wouldn't attack them, would she? Of course not but it was better to be safe than sorry and with Jack snuggled up to his mummy and she with her wand under her pillow, she simply felt better. Not that she could sleep.

Two problems. One, a former Slytherin, probably the daughter of a Death Eater of a Death Eater herself was her new assistant. Two, Severus Snape was apparently alive and roaming around Rome and had held Harry – Jack. Alive. She had seen him die. He had drawn his last breath, while he asked Harry to look at him, he had given him his memories. What was he doing there? What was he doing being alive?

Had her mind, her eyes, her memory played a trick on her? Wasn't it him, but someone else? Maybe her conclusion had been wrong and it hadn't really been Severus Snape.

But then again, they had only ever found his wand, not him himself. She, for one, had just taken it for granted that someone had already buried him and hadn't thought about it anymore. What if...no. She was just being stupid and wanted to see him.

Wanted to see him?

Where had that thought come from?

"Oh Jack.", she sighed quietly and gathered the toddler in her arms. He simply mewled softly but slept on.

* * *

He tossed in his bed, hearing the girl's even breath behind the curtain. She had given in and he'd bring her to the nearest school in the morning – acting as her guardian. He wondered how many more documents he would have to forge. So many things on his mind. So many things to think about and yet, there was one – first and foremost.

Hermione Granger.

And why had Bulstrode appeared? He would have expected Potter or the Weasley boy but not her. As far as he knew, there wasn't any love lost between the two of them – on the contrary. As far as he remembered, they had even fought at least once.

"Oh Merlin.", he groaned quietly and turned on his stomach, almost smothering himself with his pillow. "I'm Jack Torrance.", he spoke into it. "I'm Jack. Severus Snape is dead. Dead."

****


	9. Determination Deliberation

**_The usual disclaimers apply._**

**_

* * *

_**

"No, no leave me.", Letitia clung to his sleeve and looked at him with big eyes, eyes filled to the brim with tears and yet – none spilling over.

"I will pick you up later. And you have a key.", he growled. "But you have to go to school, you have to learn."

"Why?", she asked, trembling in front of the classroom she was about to go into.

He rolled his eyes and wondered for the umpteenth time why exactly he was doing it. "You need a job eventually. A real job, not what you've been doing before."

"But no can't go in there."

"Yes, you can go in there.", he encouraged her and even tried to smile – he failed miserably.

She suddenly threw herself in his arms and hugged him fiercely. "Don't leave me."

"I will come back. You need to go in there and be strong.", he urged once again, then added, a lot quieter, "why am I saying this?", and worse, why was he bringing his arms up to her back and patted her consolingly?

"No abandon me?"

He rolled his eyes again, wriggled free of her embrace, turned her around and pushed her in front of the door. He bent down slightly. "You go in there, I'll come back here later to pick you up and then we'll get an ice-cream.", he whispered in her ear.

Her breathing was shallow and unsteady and her hand found his and she squeezed it hard.

"It's okay, Letitia.", he said softly, finally feeling in known waters again. There he was again – Severus – the teacher who had to encourage his first year Slytherins (some of them at least) that nobody would hurt them as long as they kept their pride up and as long as they didn't want to be hurt. "Nobody will harm you in there."

"I been puttana."

"Pu...oh, I see.", he whispered and grabbed her upper arms. "You'll be fine.", he said softly and pushed her towards the door. "I'll be back at two."

He could see her knees trembling as he opened the door for her and he gave her another pat on the back (though he didn't know why) and she lifted her head and walked in, erect.

He breathed deeply and wondered again what he had done wrong – what kind of sin he had committed – to be playing father to a child – a damaged, abused child like this.

And: what kept him from taking the next train somewhere else.

No answers, never any answers.

* * *

"Ambassador Granger?", Millicent knocked on the door to her boss' office. She knew she would have to be very careful about what she said to her – she wanted to keep this job. England – not an option at the moment. And this embassy – it was protected. Very well protected.

"Come in.", came a voice from within and Millie straightened her back and checked her appearance. All was in place. With her – well – voluptuous figure, the pencil skirt, the turtleneck and the heels looked quite good, she thought. She wasn't sure what Hermione Granger thought about wizarding robes but she felt better in those, somewhat old-fashioned muggle clothes (any person – any muggle seeing her outside the embassy would have probably described her as a larger, more decently dressed version of Bettie Page). And she certainly didn't want to make her think she was a stickler to that, as she had called it, pureblood shit. And how could she be after all? Just because she had been a Slytherin? No way. No.

She breathed deeply again and pushed the door open. She was only mildly surprised to see the baby playing on the thick carpet with a plush dragon. "Ambassador Granger, I've got a list from Minister Shacklebolt for people he wants to be there while he is here.", she started and walked slowly to her desk where Hermione sat writing something. She laid a guest list on her desk and backed away.

"Thank you.", Hermione replied icily and only took a glance at the list. "When is he coming?"

"July First.", Millie replied, unsure whether she was invited to sit down or not. She simply stood there and tried to figure out how to stand gracefully on those heels.

"Good, good. We'll have some time for the preparation then. Would you write those invites, please?", Hermione picked up the list and wanted to hand it back to Millicent, but the dark-haired former Slytherin waved it off.

"I've got a copy, thank you.", she choked out. This was not how she had pictured it. Not at all. "Erm, Amb..."

"Yes?", Hermione looked up and Jack, on the corner crawled towards the standing woman.

"I know you don't want me here...", she stuttered slightly – as expected – but nevertheless smiled at the boy who now eyed her quizzically, standing a bit wobbly in front of her.

"I've got an owl from the minister this morning.", Hermione interrupted and grimaced as she remembered the owl landing in Jack's porridge and splattering the gooey mass all over the table. And why was Jack trying to be picked up by her now? Lucky that Millicent only smiled and didn't do anything else. Lucky, that Jack then found his plushy more interesting and toddled off again.

"I see.", Millie dropped her head and looked at the shiny, black, peep-toed shoes she wore, glad the baby wasn't staring at her anymore. It was like he knew her.

"No, you don't see.", Hermione said sharply. "Look at me."

Millicent did – she looked up and it seemed weird, all of a sudden. Hermione Granger, the perfect, model Gryffindor, the wonderful pupil, the pet of all teachers looked clueless. A sight she wouldn't forget.

"He said there's a reason why you're here. He didn't say what it was. It wasn't, I quote, his place to say.", Hermione looked at her assistant questioningly.

"Yes.", Millie replied, just as cryptically. "There is a reason I'm here – apart from the fact that I speak Italian."

"Care to share?", Hermione raised her eyebrows.

Millie smiled a little sadly. "No."

"What? I..."

"Ambassador Granger, I'm here to work for you. Obviously Minster Shacklebolt thinks I'm qualified for the job, and I will prove it to you that I am good at what I do. Now, if there isn't anything else, I'd better get started on those invites.", she turned to walk away.

"Miss B...oh for Heaven's sakes, we went to school together, Millicent, I think we should at least try to get along."

"I agree.", Millie replied and left without giving Hermione another chance to say anything.

The half-blood let out a strangled sound as soon as she was out of the study – office – whatever. This would be hard. Very hard and she wondered whether she couldn't just let things happen in England. Closing her eyes, she forced the tears back. She was a fighter. No matter what.

* * *

He was drawn to that building – somehow. A misunderstood Slytherin and a misused Gryffindor in one house. Blood and thunder was what came to his mind immediately. He remembered her very well – half a cat because of the other girl. And for the first time in years – decades, it felt like – he felt a real smile creeping on his lips. She had always been brilliant in her own ways. Polyjuice in second year. Even though she had stolen from his stores. But Polyjuice. No wonder Potter had had the ability to probably destroy the Horcruxes. Well, if he didn't – he would be in Azkaban now. And he knew that the Dark Lord was destroyed. Otherwise the Dark Mark wouldn't have vanished like that – leaving only a small scar. Nothing to be worried about – nothing that would be recognized.

He rushed – basically – towards the white marble building and he wished he could still cast a glamour on himself – but alas and alack, that wasn't possible. Even though – if he would concentrate – a wandless...no.

No.

And why was he again staring at this building sitting on that blasted bench? Not good, not good at all.

* * *

"Ambassador, the muggle is sitting on the bench again. Though...", Toffee started and Hermione looked at him, then decided quickly.

"Look after Jack.", she said quickly and closed her eyes. Destination. Determination. Deliberation.

And all of a sudden, she stood behind the bench, looking at the greying hair of the person she suspected to be Severus Snape.

****


	10. Appearances

**_The usual disclaimers apply._**

**_

* * *

_**

He had a split second to decide – probably even less. She had appeared just behind him and he desperately longed for his wand at this moment. This – or apparating. Apparating. But if he did (which he could – no doubt about that – without a wand) – she would know he was a wizard. If he remained there, he could still pretend not to be Severus Tobias Snape. If he apparated and she would see him by chance at any time in the future, she would know who he was. Staying there would mean exposure – maybe. Going would mean exposure – for sure.

Why had he gone back there? She was – if nothing else, and she was plenty else – the most nosy person he had ever met. Of course she would come looking for him. And he would be found out. Not good, not good at all.

But now was not the time to panic. He needed a decision. Quick.

* * *

Why was she always rushing into things like that? Why had she apparated right there when she had no idea what to say?

'Hello Severus Snape. Fancy seeing you here. I thought you were dead.'

no

'Excuse me, didn't I see you die in the Shrieking Shack only a few years back?'

no

'Excuse me, are you Severus Snape? I thought I recognized the sneer.'

no

'Thank you for rescuing Jack. I appreciate it. My name is Hermione Granger. What's yours?'

no

'Do you see that building?'

no

Damn rushing into things. What to do, what to do? Stab her wand into his neck and make him talk? Pretend she was just there coincidentally? She should have thought about it before just going into it headlong. That was just like in her youth and she had thought she had gotten away from that, had grown out of it. Apparently not.

She would simply...simply sit down. She would simply stop being so rash.

* * *

He just remained sitting there, pretending to look at the cars running by – or at the ruin – or building – depending on which way one looked at it. And she – why hadn't she hexed him – stunned him already? And what was she doing? No. He sensed her walking around the bench.

What the hell was she doing?

He sat a little straighter, not much, mind, and not for her to notice and kept on staring straight ahead. She wouldn't talk to him, would she?

* * *

"It's beautiful, isn't it?", she said softly, her wand in her pocket, her hand on it.

He looked at her, trying to keep the dumbstruckness away from his features. Another decision. English or Italian? Oh – of course. He was Jack Torrance. Born in Stratford.

"Excuse me?", he replied.

It was him. Only he had a voice like this. Only he did.

"I said, it's beautiful", she repeated, and looked over to smile at him. Yes. The same eyes. The nose was smaller but he had the little birthmark on his chin. It was him. Definitely.

"I'm afraid, I don't understand, miss."

She pointed at the Embassy. "I think it looks amazing."

"It's ruins, miss", he thought quickly.

"Hmm", she hummed. Obviously he pretended to be a muggle. Or maybe – oh – maybe he had lost his memories. Maybe he was Severus Snape and had turned into a squib after the snake-attack – leaving him without his magic and memories. She needed proof. But how? Severus Snape – master Slytherin. And she could use those tactics jolly well herself.

Hermione gasped and pointed at the second floor balcony. "Oh God – my son. No. Jack, get away from the railing", she panted and stood up.

For only a second, Jack Torrance looked up – and that second was enough for Hermione. Little Jack was nowhere in sight and yet – something had compelled him to look up. Concern for the child probably. Anything. The ruin wouldn't be that high. He had just given himself away. Master spy indeed.

"And you're seriously telling me you're only seeing a ruin?", she smirked and sat down again.

He was torn. She knew he was a wizard. Damn him for looking up reflexively. Damn him for being so careless. Damn him for coming to this city. Damn him for go looking for her. Damn him for...

"Ruin", he repeated.

"Interesting. I've noticed you sitting here before", Hermione stated coolly.

"I like seeing the ruin. Maybe you can enlighten me – as you seem to know so much – what used to be here? Before it turned into a ruin?", he asked silkily. Damn him for still having his voice. That damn snake should have gotten to his vocal chords.

"Erm – I don't see a ruin, so I'm not sure. And if I'm honest, I might know it all", she emphasised the words, "but I'm not too sure why you were looking up when you obviously couldn't know that my son was up there on the balcony alone."

"You're insane", he muttered, deciding on another tactic. "You're insane and if you don't stop your incessant babbling, I'm going to call the polizia", he threatened and took out his pronto from his pocket. He then stood up rapidly and moved away.

She knew this walk. If he had worn robes, they would be billowing behind him – and quite fiercely at that. Why couldn't he just admit to being Severus Snape?

Well – that answer was simple. The whole world thought he was dead. And while his name had been cleared, there would still be an investigation if he now turned up fully alive and well. But what was he doing here? Her curiosity knew no end and her temper – well, she hated to be left in the dark.

"I know it's you, Severus Snape!", she called after him, only loud enough for him to hear and pointed her wand at him. "Insector", she whispered quietly and smiled wickedly when a faint, pinkish light left her wand. She pulled a piece of parchment out of her pocket, tapped it twice, spoke a long phrase in Latin and had basically just made her own Marauders Map of Rome. With the exception that it only showed her Severus Snape. She grinned after him. One thing, she could promise him: she would find him. And she would make him talk. If she had to brew Veritaserum herself.

* * *

"Your parents are not on the list the Minister gave me", Millie squatted in front of her fireplace and stared intently in the flames and the outline of Draco's face.

"They'll be mad", he sighed and seemed to shift slightly. "I almost got to my father's wand last night. I was just a tad too slow."

"You can't break his wand, babe. He'll break you."

"I will break his wand if it's the last thing I do", he replied fiercely.

"Don't", she begged. "Don't do it. Please. There's so much at stake for you. We'll find a way. Kingsley knows."

"And does nothing except sending you away", he spat. "Step aside, I'm coming through."

"Draco, no", she shook her head vehemently. "It's not worth it. Please."

He sighed. "I should've come with you."

"It'll be fixed and you'll come here or I come back home", she whispered tenderly.

"But first we sort out this mess."

"Exactly", she laughed. He knew the phrase, she knew the phrase. Everyday vocabulary.

"Okay, Chubbs, tell me about the job."

Millie shrugged. "I only started this morning. She was a bit huffy, I think and she...", she broke off, unable to go further.

"She what?", Draco asked.

"She hates me. I can't blame her, really. I was a Slytherin, she was a Gryffindor, she hates all Slytherins on principle, I think, she was wounded, tortured in the war. Of course she would hate me. Well, no. Probably she doesn't hate me personally. It's the mere idea that she has to work with the likes of me."

"The likes of you?", he laughed. "Does she know anything of what you did in the war?"

Millicent Bulstrode shook her head. "I'm not gonna tell her either."

"Maybe you should."

"She has a baby, did I tell you?", she changed the subject, uncomfortable with talking about herself.

"No, you didn't", he said softly. "Step aside, I'm coming through", he added, seeing her face.

"No, I told you."

"Just a hug, Chubbs, just a hug."

"I don't have any long-distance FP in here", she said sadly. "I'll get some and then..."

"There, now you got me convinced. Don't look so sad though, please."

"I'm not", she cracked a weak smile that didn't convince him at all.

* * *

"Here are the invites. I wasn't sure whether you wanted to sign them personally or..."

"You wrote about 75 invites by hand in only one hour?", Hermione asked suspiciously. "By hand?"

Millie nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

"Cut the ma'am, for heaven's sakes, I told you", Hermione said exasperatedly and looked Millicent up and down. "I like the skirt.", she said, quite out of the blue.

Millie felt a blush creeping on her cheeks and instinctively, she ran a hand over the skirt, smoothing away any wrinkles. "I wasn't sure about how you wanted me to dress. If you'd prefer robes, I can change", she added meekly. She was determined to keep this job. And to do it well.

"No", Hermione shook her head nonchalantly. "It's fine. I think it might be better to wear robes for official things though."

"I thought as much", Millie said quickly and slapped herself almost immediately because she felt she had spoken out of turn but Hermione Granger surprised her. She merely laughed.

"Millicent...I'm sorry we got off on the wrong foot."

"Erm", Millie swallowed hard. "Me too."

"Good, sit down please and we'll talk about the job. I'm new to it as well, so..."

"Excuse me, but what made you change your mind?", she asked just as she was sitting down.

Hermione shrugged but felt she owed Millie honesty. Not friendship – Merlin forbid – but a nice working atmosphere. What really changed her mind had been seeing Severus Snape and a little reminder that there were good people in Slytherin. Not only bad ones that tortured and killed for the fun of it. And Kingsley Shacklebolt – _the_ ray of Light – most certainly wouldn't have sent her to work there if he wasn't sure about her position on the entire muggle-born, pureblood issue. "I, erm, I was a bit stressed last night. I thought I saw a ghost or something and I just overreacted. And this morning, I don't know. I'm sorry, Millicent", she said and meant it.

Millie, on the other hand, felt the honesty. Years of practice in that did that to her. "Call me Millie, please", she replied friendly. "I could get you some coffee, if you like. Or tea."

"That'd be nice", Hermione laughed. "I'm just getting my son and then we'll talk for a bit, mh?"

* * *

He cursed himself over and over again. Stupid him. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. He would not go near that building again. If anything, he would sent Letitia to spy. Only...well, she could only see the ruin but if there were other people coming in and out of the building, he might be able to make heads and tails out of it. Maybe.

He cursed himself all the way to Letitia's new school, knowing he would be just in time to pick her up.

Maybe – maybe that was the problem. The entire problem. Maybe – maybe he was just too bored. Nothing to do except sight-seeing, exploring the city. He had had nothing to do during the time he had been running all over France. Maybe that was the problem. Maybe that had been why he had been so adamant about finding out about that building.

Now – if he could, seriously, find something else to occupy his time with – he would be fine. No more looking for Granger and Bulstrode. No more running into children that belonged to Granger and Potter. No. He needed to do something.

But what?

The answer, once again, basically ran into his arms after only about ten minutes of walking and thinking.

"You come!", Letitia cried in his ear happily, clinging to him.

"Of course I did", he huffed but, despite himself, hugged her back slightly. Not as enthusiastically as she hugged him but still – it could be construed as a hug. Or maybe patting her on the back.

She was his solution. Simple. Bring her to school every morning, teach her something in the afternoon, overlook her homework, have her teach him Italian. That would suffice.

He, Jack Torrance, would make Letitia Sans Surname (he needed her to tell him anyway) his mission. That would be his cause.

Not as interesting as spying but it would do. For the time being.

* * *

Jack had played on the carpet as the two young women talked. It wasn't overly personal – Millie only told Hermione had she had begun to work for the Minister himself right after the final battle (she didn't lose a single word about that), first as a secretary, then as an assistant to his assistant before she was offered (she did say offered – that wasn't Hermione's business after all) to go to Italy and she accepted the post.

Hermione only told her that she had been working for another branch of the Ministry, that she had adopted Jack (keeping up the tale that it was her late cousin's son) and that this position merely came in handy because she had to raise that child. She never noticed the faraway look in Millie's eyes.

It was only when Jack decided he was bored and toddled towards Millie that Hermione felt the green-eyed monster lurking just behind her. And when she picked him up and he settled comfortably on her lap, she felt it on her – full force.

"Can you say Millie, Jack?", her assistant asked curiously.

"Millie!", Jack shouted, then leaned against her and held the girl's hand, a thumb in his mouth.

"Do you have a boyfriend?", Hermione asked nosily and immediately, the blush was back on Millicent's face.

"Erm. Well...", she stuttered.

"Erm. Well...? Is that your answer? Does that mean you're not so sure?"

"It just means that it is complicated", Millie huffed, took a hold on Jack and placed him in Hermione's lap. "And it's none of your business."

She left the room quickly and Hermione stared after her in surprise. "Odd, isn't it, Jack?", she asked her boy, then pried the thumb away.

"Millie sad", he replied simply and pushed the finger back into his mouth again.

**_

* * *

_**

**_A review told me that my story was very similiar to another story. I'm sorry to say that I do not know said story - that I hadn't read it until the reviewer told me (and after that, decided that this story took a de-aged Harry, Hermione who took him in and Severus - nothing else. This story was - if I remember correctly - written in 2003 and as far as I could tell never completed) and because of that, I did not steal my idea from it. I'm sorry if some people felt the same way, it was never my intention to take another person's idea (hell - I've been to university long enough to know what plagiarism means - and to what it can lead - even though I have - in the end - no degree) and use it as my own. _**

**_Again: I did not know the story mentioned in the review before and I didn't take any ideas from it. But (and I have to say this), there are so many brilliant HG/SS stories out there and I'm well aware of the fact that often, the same initial points are used. It's just how it is, I think. Again: sorry, if you feel that I have stolen this idea - I haven't though._**

****


	11. Insights

**_The usual disclaimers apply._**

**_

* * *

_**

He took Letitia out for dinner, brought her to school, picked her up from school, ate with her, brought her to school, picked her up, learned a little Italian, brought her to school, picked her up. She was not precisely unhappy but not happy either. She got along with some of the girls – not with others. And she smiled a lot. And – he would have never thought that – to some extent, she brought joy in his life.

The weeks passed – and he didn't see a single sign of Hermione Granger – he never noticed her around him and he always looked out for her. Even though he never visited the building again. Never. He didn't even come close to it.

Letitia Vespucci (yes, she wasn't Sans Surname anymore) kept him occupied. Not as much as he liked – but enough not to be bored.

And Merlin – no, God – he had even bought furniture for her – a desk. And she called him Jack and he liked it. Somehow. Not a lot. Still. A bit. She clung to him. Fiercely, sometimes and he wasn't sure what to make of it.

But: he got quite adapt of returning a hug. Without meaning to. Or did he? Poor Lolita – and she recovered still.

Or so he thought.

Once – only on once – she came to his bed at night. It had been a weird day for her – she had thought she had seen the protettore again. It wasn't him, true, but she had been so scared and she, oddly enough – had tried to do something.

She was kissing him on the lips in the middle of the night.

And he – Jack and Severus – had pushed her away.

Poor Lolita – Letitia.

No, she wasn't inexperienced. And yet – what would he do with a fifteen (FIFTEEN!) year old year? He pushed her away.

She had cried.

And he – not know what else to do – he had carried her to her bed. And had stroked her hair for a few minutes until she had fallen asleep.

After that – he wasn't Jack anymore.

He was Babbo.

The dictionary told him. It said it was a version of Dad.

After that – he was Babbo.

* * *

Millicent didn't talk anymore about her past.

And Jack grew. He spoke. He liked Millie – apparently. He hung around her, he walked – toddled – between her desk and Millicent Bulstrode's desk.

And he smiled at both women.

She knew where he lived – he being the person she thought was Severus Snape – no. Was sure was Severus Snape.

Near the University and the Cemetery. And he never moved far from it. Always the same route, every day. To some school – to a cafè – back to what she considered home – to some school (St Maria della Felicità) – then probably out to dinner.

School? School? Why a school? Was he really some muggle?

She didn't know. She couldn't find out. She needed some time for her next step. That would be planned meticulously, that she knew.

And she would. She was working on it.

It was only a pity that she couldn't think of a way to approach him.

Brightest witch of her age for sure – she constantly thought that. Sarcastically.

* * *

She knew she had to get him out of there. His father was violent – his father was cruel. Her own body was a testament of that.

She worked hard – she spoke to him every night and she missed his touch.

And: she had faked one invite. For him. Even if his parents were seething. She needed him. Needed him more than anything – but he would be there – he had promised.

She couldn't wait.


	12. The Minister

**_The usual disclaimers apply._**

**_

* * *

_**

"Babbo!", Letitia cried as she ran out of her school and flung her arms around his neck.

He rolled his eyes and untangled her from around him. "How many times have I told you?", he growled.

"Sorry", she apologized but smiled at him. "I have good grade on essay."

He allowed himself a little smile. "Very good."

"Will I get ice-cream?", she grinned. "Please?"

Once again, he rolled his eyes and grimacing, he began walking towards the next ice-cream parlour. He hadn't found out a lot about her. So far, he only knew that her mother had died quite early on, that her father had taken off even before that and that she had been raised by a grandmother until she had died when she had been about 8 and from then on, she had lived with nuns or something in an orphanage somewhere in the province. Not in Rome. She had come to Rome when she had run away. She had – apparently – barely lived in Rome when she had been rescued by him. She never said why she had gone into that sort of business and he didn't dare to ask.

That was one of his biggest fears in those days. Letitia Vespucci trusted Jack Torrance. And he still wasn't sure whether he could completely let Severus Snape die. There were days when he wanted to rush to that building, knock on that door and talk to her. There were days when he felt torn – when he wanted to be a wizard again, desperately. When he wanted to accio things, when he wanted to brew a simple batch of Healing Potion, when he wanted to feel the rush, the warmth of his wand in his hand, the power he could feel surging through him when he held it. He missed so many things. Apparating.

It didn't matter. He couldn't go back.

Did he regret it? It? No – he regretted many things not just one. He regretted taking the Mark. He regretted spying. He regretted – sometimes – his will to live. It would have been simpler had he died that night in the Shrieking Shack. Had he not gotten away.

Too late for that, too late.

And the girl skipping happily next to him made it worth it – sometimes. She talked to him about school, about some girls she had met there, and who had – sort of become her friends. She was still scared of men – some men at least – he certainly didn't belong to those. On the contrary – she looked up at him and she relied on him.

And what if she found out – somehow – that he had been betraying her right from the start?

He didn't want to hurt her, even though he wasn't sure why.

* * *

"Hermione, I've got some responses to the invita...", Millicent began, but was stopped as she saw her sitting in her office with some man – and she knew that back anywhere – opposite her.

"Kingsley?", she asked, unable to keep the glee out of her voice.

"Millie, my girl!", he boomed, got up and ignored the startled Hermione and wrapped the young woman in his strong arms. Millie let herself fall into his embrace, glad to feel someone on her side, completely on her side. Finally. "Are you alright?", he asked, whispering in her ear. She could only nod and fisted her hands into his robes.

Hermione looked at the two embracing figures in her office/study. She hadn't known that Millicent was so close to the Minister of Magic, who, incidentally, had come on a visit to see how the preparations for his official visit were going. Or maybe – just a tiny doubt in the back of her head – he had come to look after Bulstrode. What was going on there?

She cleared her throat once and those two still stood. The strong, tall, imposing man in his colourful robes and the chubby, smallish young woman in the solemn, dark grey pencil skirt and dark blue top. They seemed to be communicating silently and Millie – she wasn't sure whether she could believe that – seemed even to cry softly.

Clearing her throat didn't help at all. Not the second, not the third time. And she really wanted to ask the Minister about Severus Snape.

* * *

"Go and do your job, girl.", he whispered gently, his deep voice soft and soothing. "I'll come talk to you later."

Millie nodded, sniffled a little, then grimaced to keep the tears at bay and stepped out of the embrace.

"Oh, and I know about the invitation for Draco", he bent down and said smilingly into her ear.

She rolled her eyes but laughed as she handed Hermione the papers she had come in for and walked out again. She was happy he was there. One important person in her life and he had finally come to see her. She smiled as she saw Jack holding the hand of the house elf Toffee and grinning at her.

"Jack!", she laughed, and scooped the boy up in her arms. She kissed his cheek – even though she wasn't sure why she did it – and cuddled him.

"Millie happy!", he babbled into her ear and gave her a sloppy kiss in return.

"Yes, Millie's happy", she whispered, and laughed. "Millie's friend is here and he can fix things", she explained even though she doubted he would understand. Merlin, not many people understood.

* * *

"Kingsley, erm, what do you know about Severus Snape?"

The Minister frowned. "We never found his body but his wand was in the Shrieking Shack. The rumour was that Malfoy had taken him but it could never be confirmed."

"There's no doubt he died?"

"Would he leave his wand behind?", he asked suspiciously.

Hermione shrugged. "I could have sworn I saw him the other day."

"Here? No, Hermione. Severus Snape hated all countries except England. He certainly wouldn't be here."

She nodded, quite unconvinced. "But what if...?"

"Hermione, do you feel guilty? And think that you see him because of that? It's been a long time. Move on. Or is it because Harry disappeared? Do you want Harry to come back?", he asked again, staring intently at her.

"No. No. I understand Harry. He's probably happier where he is right now."

"Mh. I assure you, Severus Snape is dead. I'm very sorry about it as well – he could have been a great force to make our world a bit better – he could have helped built it up again but he's moved on behind the veil."

"Alright", she nodded again. "It's okay, I guess. Maybe I was just...I don't know", she sighed, "maybe I really want him to be there", she added, knowing that it wasn't just her subconsciousness. Well – she did want to see him. Why – she didn't know.

* * *

"There you are", Kingsley said softly, smiling as he stepped into Millie's office.

"Yes", she smiled back. "I didn't know you were coming."

"Me neither. It was a spur of the moment thing. Millie, what were you thinking sending Draco the invitation?", he asked, not quite so nice anymore now.

"I want to see him."

He groaned. "I understand that but...you know that you probably did more harm than good with it."

"Did you hear from him?", she asked alarmedly. "Did something happen?"

"Not yet", he replied sullenly, then noticed the child playing on the floor. "Is that Hermione's cousin's baby?"

"Jack, yes", she smiled. "He's very cute."

Kingsley hummed as he scrutinized the child. "He looks familiar", he muttered. "Curious. Very curious."

* * *

She pulled the parchment from her desk, tapped it with her wand. There he was. Severus Snape – or whatever name he used these days. Via Uffici del Vicario. No sense in apparating there – too many tourists. But she would try and get another look at him – talk to him. Millie was good with Jack. She would watch him for a while. And Jack liked Millie. The perfect babysitter.

She wouldn't feel guilty about leaving him for an hour or two. He was in good hands. And she would spent the entire evening with him. She would not feel guilty. And she needed – had to – find Snape. Talk to him. Solve that bloody mystery.

* * *

"Two, I said", he repeated sternly, not giving in to her little girl look.

"You want one as well?", she smiled sweetly.

"No", he huffed. "You deserve this ice-cream. Go, get it, eat it and we'll go home afterwards."

Her heart warmed when he said this last sentence. In reality, it was their home but he only rarely acknowledged that. He never did. He never even told her that he liked her – and that he did. Otherwise – well, why should he be okay that she called him by that pet name, literally calling him daddy? Even if it was in her own dialect. Even if he never told her so. But he took such good care of her, paid for her education, made sure she studied enough, fed her, clothed her, listened to her, even when he seemed bored sometimes.

She smiled, kissed him on the cheek, giggling when the stubble scratched her lips and skipped off to get a bit of ice-cream. He was the best thing that had happened to her.

He waited for her, leaning against a lamp-post. Why was he always indulging her like this? He grimaced. Not good, not good at all. He was even more becoming like a father. Not his own father – but a father like he had always wan...no. No sense in thinking that. Jack Torrance had no parents.

He looked around and gasped. Not again. No. Not again. His eyes darted back and forth. The dark-haired girl who relied on her in the queue to get some ice-cream on the one side. A bushy-haired brunette who was obviously looking for something. Or someone.

He couldn't leave Letitia standing there like that.

Or could he?

**_

* * *

_**

**_Thank you so much for your reviews. _**

**_Two things: Vespucci - wasn't chosen on a whim. It's a reference (yes, another one of those!) and not to Amerigo. Who is it? Why did I call the girl Letitia Vespucci? Answer correctly: Dedication. _**


	13. Icecream

**_The usual disclaimers apply  
_**

**_Dedicated to Aelirenn_**

**_

* * *

_**

He tried not to look around too wildly. No – he had to focus on Letitia. That girl depended on him. Merlin only knew what she would do if he left again, left her to herself. She would definitely fall into the wrong hands again. She was just too trustful. She did stay with him after all. And she certainly didn't know what he was capable of.

No.

What he had been capable of.

Past. Past. Severus Snape was dead. Jack Torrance had even captured the spider in the bathroom (the size of a Buick, she had said, even though he didn't understand) and had brought it outside. He hadn't killed the spider that had scared Letitia. Lily would have been proud.

Wait – Lily? Where had that thought come from?

No matter, no matter. She was dead. Passed on. No matter.

He didn't dare to look sideways. Maybe she would just walk past and wouldn't notice him. And if she did – well – it was simple, wasn't it?

He would simply proclaim her a lunatic again and would get away with Letitia.

But how had she found him? Coincidence? Yes.

No.

Coincidence. There was no other way. He would have felt a spell cast on him. Most likely anyway.

* * *

There he was. Yes – his nose was different. His hair was shorter and clean. He wore muggle clothes. Would Severus Snape ever wear jeans? If that man was him – he would. Jeans and a simple t-shirt. Blue t-shirt. Not black. Not a single black thing on his body. Well, none that was visible.

Maybe she was wrong. Maybe it really wasn't him – but then again, why had he looked up? Because she had said balcony? That was the sensible thing for anyone to do, to look up when someone said balcony, wasn't it?

She would confront him. Again. Probably.

Taking two steps forward, she fixed her gaze on him. He was in for something. She just had to find a way. A spell. A spell, something. Was there something that revealed magic in a person?

She wrecked her brain. None that she knew off. And who could she ask? Kingsley thought she had had a crush on Snape because she thought she had seen him, or he thought that maybe she just missed Harry.

Her thoughts wandered to Harry. Jack.

Yes, she missed Harry – missed him a lot. She missed the old Harry – the determined one, the one she had fun with, the one who joked around. Not the unhappy, depressed Harry. Even if that sounded shallow and hypocritical. She missed him. But she was reminded, daily, that he got his wish – and that she was the one making it come true for him and Jack – Jack was the one she loved most.

Jack, her baby. Her features took on a dreamy expression (without her noticing) and her steps slowed. He was the reason she was in Rome. He was the reason she was doing this – he was the reason she wasn't slaving away in the Ministry anymore – pushing piles of paper from one side of her desk to the other. Jack.

She smiled.

But Jack – he had called the man she thought was Severus Snape daddy, hadn't he?

There was a connection.

Hermione Jean Granger stopped completely in her tracks.

What if – and it was a big if – ah – seriously. If Lily Potter and Severus Snape had had contact after Harry was born – and Lily had shown Severus the boy – wouldn't Jack now recognise him? Was that the reason Harry had called that man daddy?

It wasn't completely made out of thin air, was it?

They had been friends. Maybe Snape had visited the Potters. Maybe had met him while he was a baby. As far as she knew (though the literature never said anything about that), he still had his memories from when he was younger than he was now. She really wished for Harry at this moment. He could clear this thing up. Could explain.

She had only seen parts of Snape's memories. She wasn't sure whether a Death Eater could still be friends with his – well – childhood sweetheart. Harry would know. But Harry couldn't answer her questions.

There was only one solution.

There was only one way to find out – really. He could lie, he could cheat, he could raise his Occlumency shields (not that she was a Legilimens but still) all he wanted – she would find out a way to actually find out who he was.

Hermione Granger – more than she wanted to admit – was intrigued by that man. And he was handsome to boot.

She grimaced at her thought and purposefully, strode towards him.

* * *

His gaze was still fixed at Letitia who picked out two flavours carefully. She did most of the things she did with the utmost care. The other day, she had dragged him to buy new linens for his bed and her bed. She – insufferable girl – had taken 2 hours to find the perfect set for his bed. And now he slept between white, embroidered sheets. Not quite his style. Or was it?

He was confused. Every day a bit more. He didn't know himself anymore. Sometimes – truly only sometimes – he longed to just hug Letitia (in a complete innocent way) and tell her that he would take care of her – that she didn't have to go back on the streets.

And oddly, she didn't seem to take it for granted.

They had their routine and Seve...no, Jack, liked it. She got up, put coffee in the machine, while it ran through, she showered, did her morning routine, well, whatever it was that women (girls!) did in the morning, then handed him his mug of milky coffee (Jack Torrance liked milky coffee – Severus Snape preferred his coffee black), ran down to the store, got a few brioches, then they had a light breakfast together and they walked together to school.

After she was safely in the hands of those who were supposedly teaching her the really important things of life (yes, that was a sarcastic thought – especially since he had seen her so-called maths assignments – ridiculous), he went to the next café, got a cup of cappuccino or espresso – depending, really – read a paper (if there was nothing else available, even the Gazetta dello Sport), then went to walk around the city a bit, entered a few bookshops, usually, occupied his time, until she was off school.

He sat on the almost newly acquired table with her as she did her homework, her sipping an Aranciata (he had banned all straws from their household after he had discovered what horrid, disgusting noises she could make with those) and helped her as much as he could.

She had dragged him to a few muggle films, she had made him buy a TV (he remembered that his father had had one of those – but that hadn't been colour, had it been? and one had to actually walk to it to switch channels. Letitia merely pushed buttons on a, what she called, remote control), she went out to dinner with him, she talked in Italian to him, she read with him, she went to bed and left him to brood sometimes.

Every once in a while, he did actually wonder how much the muggle world had changed since he had been a teenager. And to be honest, while he had ventured into the muggle parts of most towns even when he had been teaching at Hogwarts, he had never lived in it. There were prontos, bigger televisions, something that Letitia had called a laptop (she desperately wanted one but since he wasn't too sure what it was – she would have to wait), the phones looked different, everything.

It was as if he had gone to sleep and had woken up two or three, seven or eight (how long? how long? too long!) decades later. Everything was different. But he couldn't let Letitia know that.

* * *

Definitely him. So deep in thought – his brow furrowed – that could only be him.

But then again – no. Severus Snape would never let anyone come near him that easily without paying even a little attention. That man wasn't on his toes at all. He looked into that – what was this? ice-cream parlour – as if he was waiting for something. And he hadn't even noticed how she had come to a halt directly next to him.

"Hi", she said softly.

* * *

He jumped – he hadn't jumped in a while. He had always been prepared for the things to come. He had been prepared for the Crucios from His wand, he had been prepared for the conflicts with the other teachers of the school, he had been prepared for the unfriendliness, the complaints, the distrust, for every single assault, physically, psychologically, inflicted on him.

But he hadn't been prepared for her suddenly appearing next to him. Where had she come from?

Wait – no – he had been so deeply in his musings that he hadn't noticed her.

Finally – the most annoying Severus Snape trait had gone to the dogs.

And she had the audacity to say hi. He tsked internally, focused on Letitia, willing her to come out of that bloody parlour quickly.

Ignore her or talk to her?

He risked a glance at her.

She had grown – really. And she was without her child.

"Hello", he heard a voice say and since she smiled at him, he figured it must have been him talking.

"I'm sorry I scared you the other day."

He felt himself shrugging. She had beautiful eyes – had he noticed that before? They looked so warm, felt warm. She was still young but those eyes held wisdom well beyond her years. Had he ever looked into them before?

Probably not.

"Babbo, I got chocolate and straciatella."; Letitia finally came out of the store, happily smiling and holding the cone in front of his mouth. "Want to taste?"

He shook his head and looked good-naturedly at her (it could haven been interpreted as a smile but only just). "Shall we go?", he asked her softly.

Letitia nodded, then her gaze fell on Hermione who gaped at the two of them.

"Do you know this lady?", she asked her babbo, remembering she was the one they had sort of followed on the second or third or fourth day after he had pulled her away from the figlio di puttana, the protettore. She remembered exactly. It was the same curly head full of hair. Maybe babbo liked this lady. Oh – that made sense. Of course he did. And she was pretty. She grinned.

"Oh, sorry", Hermione gushed and extended her hand to the girl, who shook it deftly. "Your, erm, he, rescued my son a few weeks ago, well, not rescued, well, he did, but he found him when he had gotten away from me."

"Ah", Letitia still grinned.

"Let's go", he said again, sterner this time.

"I'm Hermione Granger", she stated.

"I'm Letitia Vespucci, Hermione Granger", she had difficulties with the young woman's first name but she said it slowly and took great care in pronouncing it right. "That's babbo."

"Hello babbo", Hermione couldn't suppress a grin.

"Jack Torrance", he growled.

"Jack Torrance?", Hermione asked suspiciously. Severus Snape wouldn't pick a name from a muggle movie, would he? Severus Snape had seen _The Shining_? No. Severus Snape and Jack Nicholson? No. She held back on a snort.

"'S nice man, babbo", Letitia explained. "Not my babbo but he lets me call him that because he..."

"That's quite enough, Letitia", he said threateningly and took her arm. "We have to go home. Homework."

He turned to leave but Letitia would have none of it. She dug her heels in the ground and smiled at Hermione. "You look like you know babbo."

"Erm – I thought I did", Hermione explained. "But I guess not."

"You should go out with him", she said with conviction. "Think babbo likes you."

He had taken three steps away and when Letitia leaned in to whisper into Hermione's ear, he couldn't make out the words at all. "Think we followed you a few weeks ago."

"You did what?", Hermione frowned but kept her voice down like Letitia had.

"You have child, do you not?"

"Yes", she smiled. "Jack."

"Oh also Jack", Letitia smirked. "Think babbo likes you", she repeated. "But is shy. He will never ask appuntamento. Erm, come si dice? Date."

"He wants a date with me?", Hermione grimaced. "Surely not."

Letitia winked. "You are his type, I think. And he follow you."

"Letitia!", he called impatiently.

"Coming", she turned her head and pushed a bit of paper in Hermione's hand. "That's the number for his telephone. You call."

She hurried away to the side of her – well – whatever, leaving a completely dumbstruck Hermione behind. Surely not. Severus Snape would not fancy her. She snorted, she could let it go now. It certainly wasn't her old Potions Master. Follow her, yes. But not because he liked her. Ridiculous idea.

She made her way to a quiet alley and disapparated. No, the evidence was clear. He had a daughter, or a surrogate daughter whom he liked, apparently, even though he acted gruffly, and he had a mobile phone or another phone that he seemed to use. And he had seemed to have confided into that girl.

Nope, Severus Snape had never confided in anyone.

Hermione Granger was quite unaware at this moment that sometimes – only sometimes – people tend to change.

* * *

"What in the name of Merlin's balls are you doing here?", Millie panted and rushed towards the figure cleaning soot off his robes.

"My Chubbs is truly happy to see me", Draco sneered and opened his arms. "Do I get a hug?"

Millicent gasped again, and then let herself fall into his arms. She clung tightly to him, breathing in the familiar scent, drinking in the feel of his arms around her. She simply stood there – being hugged by the two most important men in her life in the course of two hours.

"What are you doing here? Kingsley said it was foolish even to send you the invitation", she looked up in his greyish eyes and a single tear made its way down her cheek.

"No worries", he purred and kissed the stray drop away. "Officially, I'm only in Knockturn Alley getting my father something from..."

"You will never get back", Millie shrieked.

"Since when are you so hysterical?", he asked. "I've brought Floo Powder with me."

"I'm just – I'm just worried."

"Me too. And I thought, maybe I could stay here", he smirked.

"You can't..."

He placed a finger on her lips. "I know I can't."

"You have something to do there. You know what Kingsley thinks..."

"Shush, Millie. Don't talk about it", he whispered before he silenced her with a breathtaking kiss that not only left her swooning from the lack of oxygen.

_**

* * *

**_

_**Vespucci: Simonetta Vespucci was the muse of Sandro Botticelli. I'm sure you all know her from one painting or another (she's the Venus – in his Birth of Venus) or the allegory of Spring in his Primavera. Very interesting woman – very unlucky girl. **_

_**Gazetta dello Sport: The biggest sports newspaper in Italy (mostly full with football [European football that is].**_

_**Aranciata: A kind of lemonade. Orange-flavoured. **_

_**Thank you for the reviews!**_

_**There is an almost direct quote from a movie in there: name it: dedication.**_

__


	14. Pronto

**_The usual disclaimers apply_**

**_

* * *

_**

She stared in disbelief at the bit of paper – crumbled in her hand. It was a number. A simple telephone number. And obviously that man's – Severus Snape?– number. Obviously he was interested in her – at least his daughter – was she his daughter? – thought so.

And why not? He certainly seemed interesting. He was not quite handsome. Well, but good looking, quite catching, really. She was single. He probably was (why should the girl give her his number anyway?) and there was no harm in calling him.

Well – only – sometimes, her Gryffindor courage failed her.

She sighed and put the piece of paper in a notebook. She would think about it. She would talk with Jack about it.

He was her number one priority.

* * *

"You should go back", Millie panted against Draco's neck and he kissed across her collarbone. "And Jack..."

He merely hummed and continued kissing.

"Millie!", Jack clapped his hands happily and interrupted successfully the snogging session.

"That's Hermione Granger's child?", Draco asked as soon as he had his breath back.

"That's Jack", she laughed, stepping away from his embrace but caught his hand in hers and intertwined her fingers with his.

"Hello Jack", Draco smiled and the boy smiled toothily and crawled towards the pair, lifting his arms towards Millie. "He likes you, doesn't he?", Malfoy grinned back at the baby and as soon as Millie had picked him up, he tickled the boy under the chin. The toddler giggled and laughed and tried to swat the hand away.

Millie laughed as well and for once, she forgot about her own pain. For once, she didn't think about what might have been. For once – only for once – she only lived in the presence. Her boss' baby in her arms, her boyfriend with his arm wrapped around her, joking with Jack.

"What the hell are you doing here?", a shrieking voice came from the door frame.

Millie stood dumbstruck. She shouldn't have let him stay. She should have sent him straight back. It was – oh Merlin – this would only cause more problems.

"Visiting my future wife, Granger", a voice, a very familiar voice next to her stated. The tone hard. She hadn't heard Draco speaking so harshly since...a while. But then again he barely had reason to speak with her like this – especially lately.

Lately, he did everything to make her feel good – even though he himself felt rotten. He never said it – she always knew.

"Get out!", Hermione shrieked again.

"I don't think so", he replied and tightened his grip on Millie. "I'm so sick of you hating me."

"Hate you?", Hermione's voice was sarcastic. "Hate you?"

He nodded, trying to stare her down.

"I have every reason to."

"What reason? That my mother saved Potter? That...", he couldn't finish his train of thought.

"That your father and mother would have given us to Voldemort without a second thought? That you forced Snape to kill Dumbledore? That your own soul was too precious that you risked another man's?"

"It was his choice and I don't think he burns in hell", Draco spat and even though Hermione wanted to turn on her heel, get some help to get him out, she stood still and stared at him.

"What?", she asked, puzzled. Did he know he was alive?

"What what?"

"Could you stop fighting?", Millie finally found her voice and wriggled away from Draco, Jack, who was watching fascinated, still securely in her arms. "I can explain."

"I want him to explain", Hermione bellowed. "Why don't you think he burns in hell?"

He shook his head. "There is no hell, Granger"

"What?"

"Very..."

"Stop!", Millicent shouted again. "I don't care if Professor Snape's in heaven, in hell, in the Underworld, over the Styx, take your pick – but..."

Hermione understood. Once more, she had gotten the wrong idea. Draco thought he was dead. Everybody thought he was dead. Everybody. But her? Maybe. She wasn't so sure anymore. She sighed. "Okay – what is he doing here?"

* * *

"You did what?", he said in his old teaching voice – soft, low, threatening, cold. Worse than any yelling, any shouting.

"I gave beautiful woman your phone number", Letitia stated coldly. "You followed her and you like her."

"I don't like her", he protested. But how could he explain without revealing himself? There was no way he could.

And maybe, just maybe – this was the perfect solution. She would never call him. She wouldn't.

In fact, he was almost sure that Hermione Granger had the complete wrong opinion about him – well, about Severus Snape anyway.

And if he was honest with himself (not that easy but sometimes necessary), the opinion he thought she had about him wasn't that far-fetched.

Of course she had only ever seen him as the wizard. Never as the half-muggle who had spent his childhood in the muggle world. Of course she would think that he couldn't survive three days hidden away from all things magic. Of course she would believe he couldn't live without his wand.

Again – not that far-fetched. And yes, it had been difficult and he remembered with dread the first time he had to buy food again in a market – after thirty or so years in the wizarding world where usually either elves had delivered the food or he had eaten out. And in France – this really had been an adventure. Things he didn't know the name of, had never seen. And he had been stuck with baguette and cheese for three weeks until he had understood the basics of the language.

"Why were you following her? Why did you?", Letitia asked, staring at him.

He glared at her. "Do your homework."

"So you like her", she grinned, sat down and took some books from her bag. She still grinned. "I think you should go out with her."

He growled and turned away from her. But maybe she had done him the biggest favour. If she called – and he doubted that – he would probably go out with her. As Jack Torrance.

He smirked as he looked out of the window. Good Letitia. And a date with Hermione Granger – what a way to get sweet revenge on Potter – the boy who now probably was Minister of Magic already – though he had absolutely no qualifications for that. And he could – if he went to dinner with her, probably, find out a few things about the world he had spent such a long time in.

In fact...

No, he couldn't do that, could he?

He crossed his arms in front of his chest and smirked evilly. A typical Severus Snape smirk.

He would ask her out. Pretend to be Jack – she would believe him and he'd get information. Work as a spy again. For his own good. Spying for himself, not someone else.

He wiped the smirk from his face and walked over to the girl. He bent down over her shoulder, look at what she was writing and – quite impulsively, quite out of character – kissed the top of her head.

"You're right", he whispered.

Finally he had a plan again. Finally he had something to do.

Even if it was just dating Hermione Granger – dating Granger not because he liked her (know-it-all, insufferable, heroine, friend of Potter, friend of Weasley – that said enough), but because he could finally still his – indisputable – curiosity.

* * *

"I'm waiting", Hermione tapped her foot on the ground impatiently.

Millie and Draco exchanged a glance and she shook her head barely perceptibly.

"I missed her. Is that so hard to understand?", Draco explained, his voice finally calm again.

"He surprised me. I didn't know he was coming", Millie shrugged and smiled at him, completely in love.

"Fair enough", Hermione shrugged. "But you could've told me that he was your boyfriend when I asked."

It was Millie's turn to shrug.

"We kept it low-key", Draco answered and Millie nodded, beaming.

"Come on, Jack. We'll leave those two love-birds be", she added simply, snatched her baby from her arms and left the room.

Millie exhaled audibly. "This, erm, she holds a grudge, doesn't she?"

"I can't blame her", Draco shook his head and hugged her tightly. "What happened to her in Malfoy Manor – Millie, really – I'm surprised she didn't hex me."

"You didn't show it."

"Of course not. Can't let the mask slip. If I can't even pretend to be mean-spirited and an evil git in front of her, I don't stand a chance in front of my father", he sighed and buried his face in her neck.

"Nightmare", she mumbled and held on tightly to him.

"A few more months, Chubbs. Maybe 6, 9 tops. We can make it. And after that..."

"After that?", she asked.

"I'll ask you to marry me again", he smiled and pulled slightly away before he kissed her tenderly.

* * *

Hermione watched Jack playing, then sat on the floor opposite him and smiled. Jack grinned back, he still seemed to be in the drooling, spitting stage. He crawled on all fours towards her and flung himself into her arms. She cuddled the baby for a while, enjoying the closeness.

"Jack, what should I do?", she asked softly.

"Mummy?", he asked and looked at her. He didn't look much like Harry anymore. His eyes were different, his mouth was a little different, his nose was the same, probably.

"Do you think I should call him?"

He babbled something and crawled from her lap and picked up his plush dragon and carried it to his mummy.

"You're right, Jack", she smiled and took the dragon from him. "Only if I meet him, I can find out if he is really Severus Snape. If he isn't, well, we'll see."

"Mummy meet", he repeated proudly and brought her another plush animal.

"Jack, come on, we'll call Toffee and see if we can find a phone somewhere. And maybe Toffee will babysit you if I meet him."

* * *

Letitia looked at him, very surprised. He had just kissed her on the head. He had never done it. He had never shown any kind of affection towards her. Sure, she knew he liked her (otherwise he would never let her live there) but he had never shown it. Until now.

Maybe she had done something right in giving the number to the lovely young woman. Yes, she was younger than he was – a bit – but they would look good together. And any babies would be beautiful.

Maybe – maybe he would marry her and they'd adopt her. She let herself fall against Jack and was swept away in her daydream.

She would be a good bigger sister – she could watch the baby that the lovely woman already had and any other babies they would get together.

She could get a family. If she only gave Jack a little push – and gave the lovely woman a little push.

Deep inside, despite all her experiences, Letitia Vespucci was a romantic. Not for herself – but Jack deserved to be loved. By someone other than only her. Jack deserved a family and children of his own.

* * *

The girl leaned against him – he hadn't planned it that way. Sentimental fool – he berated himself. Well, why not? Jack Torrance could show affection, couldn't he?

Yes.

He would get over all those issues. He could trust Letitia. Well – he could trust her to make his life interesting. But she meant no harm – of that, he was certain.

His body moved a bit towards her, shielding her – somehow – from all the evils in the world and his arm, who had a mind of its own, wrapped itself around her shoulder.

But he would have to be like that if he wanted to get closer (not physically, Merlin forbid) to Granger.

* * *

She hadn't known of course that there was a mobile phone available to her in the embassy. Toffee had looked at her with a curious expression – as if having muggle technology there was something he was quite used to. He had even switched it on for her (she could have done it but then again – when had mobiles gotten so small?) and then, only after she had sent him out, he had left the room.

And with trembling fingers, Jack in her lap, she dialled the number scribbled on the paper.

She hadn't felt so excited since – never. Probably. All her relationships before (two – if one counted Victor, which wasn't really a relationship but rather a – whatever) had just fallen into place. Never before had she have to do anything for them. Not really. Ron and her – they were somehow meant to be together for a while (and if he hadn't been such an idiot, they would probably still be an item), but it was nothing she had to work for. It had just happened. Somehow.

It rang and she had to close her eyes. This was too, too, too exciting.

* * *

They were still sitting kind of close to one another, even though Letitia had picked up her pen again and had begun to write. He hadn't left her side – why – he wasn't sure.

He respected her for working so hard on her homework – even though he knew that she still somehow disliked going there and she found most of the things she had to learn useless (he couldn't agree more but he would never tell her that). He respected her – a mere student. When had that last happened?

Probably never.

Both of them jumped as the pronto that was on the table (he had put it there carelessly) vibrated.

"Letitia?", he asked softly – there were only three people who had his number. The girl, the headmistress of the girl's school and Hermione Granger.

"I'm sorry", she grimaced and gripped his arm. "Go out with her."

He rolled his eyes and suppressing the trembling in his fingers, he picked up the pronto and answered it.

"Pronto?", he asked gruffly.

* * *

It rang three times – then it was this voice again. She wasn't sure if two people could have such a voice – a rich, deep, velvety voice. Even if he had just said 'pronto'. Whatever that meant.

"Hi", she said nervously. "This is Hermione Granger."

"Who?", he asked, pretending not to know her instantly. All part of his cover.

"Hermione Granger. We met earlier today."

"Ah, I remember now", he tried hard to keep in character and had to bite back several – a lot wittier - replies. "What can I do for you, Hermione Granger?"

"Your, erm, daughter, or, well, the girl, gave me your number", she almost stuttered. This was a lot harder than she had thought and now Jack began talking to his dragon on her lap.

"That was nice of Letitia", he replied. In character – he had to remind himself. In character.

"Erm, yes. She seems quite nice."

"She is", he said pleasantly. And he actually smiled a little at the girl. She had been the key to this. And Hermione Granger was so nervous – he would have her eat right out of his palm. He would just have to learn (and he was sure Letitia could help him with that) how to charm her a little more. "I'm glad you called", he forced himself to say – and it wasn't easy.

"Really?", she was surprised. That was not Snape. Certainly not.

"Absolutely. Otherwise I would have to follow you again", he had an odd taste in his mouth. Everything for the role he played. Jack Torrance was charming. And he would find out what was going on in the world of Severus Snape. And he would get the satisfaction of besting the so-called brightest witch of her age.

"Really?", she asked again.

He chuckled. "Absolutely. Do you often ask the same question twice?"

"Erm, no. Why are you glad I called?"

"So I could ask you out without following you again", he kept his voice gentle, his hand clenching to a fist in his pocket.

Hermione Granger was sure now. Not Severus Snape. Certainly not.

"Really?", she asked.

"You're saying the same thing again", he snorted. "But yes, really. I'd quite like to take you out to dinner."

_**

* * *

**_

_**The movie quote mentioned in the last chapter was the remark about the spider the size of a Buick and I took it from Annie Hall. It seemed fitting.  
**_


	15. Getting ready

_**The usual disclaimers apply.**_

_**Just a reminder: We're currently in June/July 2001! (oh, those were the days – little me was only 18/19. Good times, really good times!)**_

* * *

"No no no", she shook her head. "You can't wear that."

"Why not?", he asked, looking at his reflection in the mirror. It was black slacks and a white shirt. Nothing Hermione Granger would have seen him in when she was a student. There weren't any robes after all.

"No no no", she repeated disapprovingly. "Here", she dumped a pair of well-fitting dark denim jeans in front of him. "And unbutton the shirt a bit."

"I don't think I've given you permission to just go to my dresser", he really did sound like a father now and that thought made him groan.

"Wash", she said in a way of explanation and left his part of the room – pulling the curtain closed behind her. "And hurry – woman don't like men who are late."

He huffed but changed his trouser. Yes – she was right. It did look better than before. Less formal. Even though – just high-brow enough. And the shirt – something had to be done with the shirt.

He had to remember his mission – yes, his mission – and even though he hated to ask for help or advice, there – he needed it desperately. "Letitia!", he called and a second later, the girl stuck her head inside, grinning broadly.

"Yes?", she asked tentatively. He really liked the woman – otherwise he wouldn't look so nervous. And excited. Poor Jack, she thought. But it would work out. Of that she was sure. After all, Jack could be very nice, very gentle when he set his mind to it. Madonna, he had hugged and kissed the top of her head.

"Something's wrong with this shirt", he pointed at himself.

She nodded and squinted at him, seemingly evaluating what she saw. "Aha!", she exclaimed and stepped closer. "No move now!"

He rolled his eyes but stood still. She undid two the top three buttons, then stepped away again, scrutinizing his appearance. She shook her head slightly, and before he knew what happened, she had unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled the sleeves up.

She frowned once she saw the remains of the Dark Mark. She scratched her head and didn't notice how he had paled and stiffened. He hadn't thought of that. It wasn't that visible anymore – it looked more like a scar than a tattoo. Not that it ever had been a tattoo – but it had certainly resembled some of those things that some of those young girls had on their lower backs. Ridiculous things, really.

"I think I have idea. That was bad laser, yes?", Letitia pulled him – once again – from his thoughts and dashed off.

He grumbled. He looked in the mirror and yes, the rolled-up sleeves looked better but Hermione Granger would discover the Dark Mark and would know instantly. So the sleeves had to go down again – even though he knew he would be sweating.

She came back into his partition of the room again after a second, carrying a little pot of something.

"What's that?", he asked suspiciously.

"Fondo tinta", she replied matter-of-factly and with a little cotton pad, she applied a little of the thick, skin-coloured liquid (it reminded Severus of Polyjuice – at least in consistency, not in colour, not in smell) on the skin and rubbed it over the former Dark Mark while holding his hand gently. She smiled up at him when she took the cotton pad away. "See?", she asked.

"It's gone", he replied, very astonished.

"Si", Letitia grinned. "But don't rub on anything. Fondo will come off."

"I see", he smirked. The girl had the best ideas. He could hide the Mark perfectly from Granger while eating and talking like this and he certainly didn't plan on doing anything more than eating and talking.

He shook his head again in astonishment and as she was busy closing the little pot again, he surprised her completely.

Letitia shrieked when she felt two arms around her but she relaxed almost instantly when he pulled her closer to his chest. That was the first time he had hugged her like this – and Letitia Vespucci – who had never known a fatherly hug, let herself fall into it, revelled in the security that hug provided, inhaled the scent of the aftershave and everything else deeply and closed her eyes. How different such a hug felt from all the other – post-coital – hugs from men she had gotten. There was nothing in the least sexual about it. No, it was really a hug from a person who loved her platonically, who promised with his hug to take care of her. She felt even a little weight on her head and knew that Jack had put his chin there.

He sighed – not known what had come over him – and pulled away. He forced – well, no, he didn't have to force himself – a smile, gave the girl a kiss on her forehead and was off before she could utter one syllable.

Not that she could have spoken – she was overwhelmed by feelings and for the first time in her life, she didn't mind one bit.

* * *

"No no no", she shook her head. "I can't wear that", she muttered as she stood in front of the mirror, looked at the shift dress she wore. It was a way too formal and uncomfortable. "Jack, what do you think?"

The baby sat on her bed and grinned at her. He didn't say anything.

"Thanks a lot", she muttered again and searched frantically through her closet. At least she had already done her make up (only a little – a bit of mascara, a bit of blusher) and her hair (in the humidity it was best to just put it up and so tame the mop, even if the hairpins hurt) – now she only needed something to wear.

Jack – unbeknownst to her – climbed from the bed and walked towards the closet. He came to a halt directly next to his mummy and tugged on the hem of the dress.

"Mummy here", he babbled and pointed randomly at anything in the closet.

"That?", Hermione asked, pointing at a simply, flowery summer dress. "Isn't that too casual?"

"No", Jack shook his head, then pointed, randomly at heavy winter robes.

Hermione knew of course that he hadn't really picked the dress. He had just pointed without thinking but she would wear it. She could always lay the blame on the little one in case he (whoever he was) didn't like it.

She found herself wanting him to like it. Why?

Yes, why?

Two reasons, right? The first one being that she needed to find out who he was – and for that, she would have to get closer to him. The second reason – oh dear – did she find him attractive?

"Whoa", she exclaimed loudly, causing a repeat performance from Jack.

Was she attracted to someone who was – or in the least reminded her of – Severus Snape? That thought was wrong, wrong, wrong. She couldn't be, could she?

But he was good-looking...

Stop it, she berated herself and stepped out of the shift and into the summer dress, instantly happy that Jack had pointed at it. It suited her, it made her look, well, romantic a little, but grown-up. It made her look – in combination with the hair and the make-up, five years older and as she suspected that he (whoever he was) was at least 12 or so years older than she was (15 more like), that could only be an advantage.

"That's it, Jack", she sighed and picked him up carefully, trying not to wrinkle the dress. "Millicent will watch you and I'll not be back late, okay?"

"Kay, mummy!", he kissed her cheek sloppily. "Fun!"

* * *

He peeked around the corner. He had suggested picking her up – of course she had been adamant he didn't do that – and she had suggested meeting in front of the 'ruin' (well, that was basically picking her up – even though she didn't know that). And he certainly didn't want to give the game away too soon – seeing her come out of the ruin would completely ruin (he smirked internally at his pun) the purpose. She wouldn't get to trust him.

Another peek and she stood there and somehow, there had to have been an extremely old car rushing by with smelly exhaust or something (whatever they called the stink that came out of cars) because suddenly, the air was knocked out of him and he couldn't breathe for a moment.

She looked very pretty in a dress, a handbag in her hand, a cardigan over her arm. She looked around, seemingly looking for him and he braced himself (a bit) and strode around the corner, trying hard not to walk as Severus Snape had walked.

She noticed him immediately – and he he had to admit that maybe her reflexes weren't that bad after all. She even smiled broadly as she saw him.

She looked so grown-up – like an adult – she was pretty.

He shook his head – trying to get the thought out of it. That wasn't right. She was the object, she was the means.

And worse – she was Hermione Granger, former Gryffindor princess, heroine, a third of the golden trio – and she had been his pupil for 6 years or so.

But no – that wasn't right. He wasn't Severus Snape. He hadn't known her before. He didn't know about Gryffindor, or Hogwarts, or of the golden trio or the war. Or teaching.

Oh Merlin – what kind of profession did he have? She would surely ask.

He clenched his jaw – then unclenched it and forced himself to smile as he stepped in front of her.

"Hello", he said softly. He still sounded like Snape. Coincidence, coincidence. But then again, Severus Snape had been born in Gateshead, right? Maybe he could dredge up – maybe he could try and sound a bit like blasted Tobias Snape.

"Hi", she replied breathlessly.

* * *

He looked – dashing. The clothes he wore were perfect – casual and then not – dark jeans, white shirt, rolled up sleeves. She had always enjoyed that kind of look. His greying temples, she had to suppress a sigh (or a moan, whichever way one looked at it) when he walked towards her with a warm smile. Nope, definitely not Snape. Snape sneered and smirked – he didn't smile. Not as warmly (and, dare she say it, sexy!).

His voice, only the tiny hello he uttered had her insides melting and her knees going weak. She would make him talk – talk to her all the time – and even if he read that menu to her. It didn't matter, as long as she could drown in the silky tone of his voice. But then again, it was so much like Snape's. And then not at all. His accent was slightly different. A touch of Geordie, maybe? Not the Queen's English, the BBC English that Snape had used. But she could ask him later, couldn't she? They were – on a date – on a date – after all.

She smiled at him and somehow, it must have been the stinking cars – her hi came out a lot more breathlessly than she had anticipated.

"Shall we go?", he asked, and despite Severus Snape, he offered her his arm. She beamed up at him – but my she was rather small compared to him – and looped hers through his.

He smelled good as well. Spicy, aftershavy, lovely. She inhaled deeply.

"Where are we going?"

"A little restaurant", he said in way of an explanation and smiled at her.

* * *

Since when did he smile that much? But Merlin, the girl was lovely. Maybe he would seduce her after all. Should be easier to get information out of her then – and he would have a lot of fun seeing her squirming, explaining how she was a witch.

__


	16. The Date

**_The usual disclaimers apply_**

**_

* * *

_**

He even helped her in the chair. When had he ever done that? Never.

But probably Jack Torrance's mother had taught him manners and how to act in front of a woman – it certainly seemed that way now.

She beamed up at him and he smiled back – that Jack Torrance smile. Painful – but only a little. Maybe he hadn't used those facial muscles enough.

He sat down and looked intently at her for a moment. She still seemed to be as curious as she used to be and her eyes showed that. She seemed incredibly interested in him.

"So", he began, "I know your name. I know you have a son. I don't know much more."

She laughed and somehow, the sound made its way straight to his stomach – it lingered there, tingled but he shrugged the feeling off – after all, he was only used to Letitia's form of laughter and hers was different. "He's my adopted son, not really my son."

He raised his eyebrows and Severus – inside – was even more interested. "Adopted?"

"Yes", she said and he noted her hesitancy. So it was Potter's bastard (the boy looked a bit like him – like Lily - after all) and she had taken him because the golden boy was too busy?

"My cousin died and I took Jack in", she explained.

"Oh dear. My condolences", he had tried to stop himself before saying it – too late.

"Thank you", she smiled gently. "He's gotten used to me, I think."

"He seemed very fond of you. I would have never guessed he isn't yours", where had that come from? He slapped himself internally. Being nice was fair enough – sucking up to her wasn't. But then again, were her eyes slightly wet now? No, that was a trick of the light.

"It seems that's something we have in common", she replied, quite cryptically.

"Whatever do you mean?"

"That girl who's with you – erm - "

"Letitia"

"Yes, Letitia – she said she wasn't your daughter."

He chuckled – what an uncharacteristic sound – then cleared his throat. "No, she isn't my daughter."

"Yes?", apparently that answer wasn't enough for her.

"I quite stumbled over her, actually. She was in less than fortunate circumstances – you might say – and I helped her out. I couldn't get rid of her since."

Somehow, her demeanour changed then and she looked quizzically at him. He sensed something was amiss and she spoke, before he could guess more. "You sounded just like an old teacher of mine there."

"I did?", he grinned. Not sneering – not smirking. Distract her. "How come?"

"It was just...erm...the way you said it – I couldn't get rid of her since. It was something he would have said", she paused for a moment and fixed him with her eyes. "In fact, you quite remind me of him."

"Really? Must have been a fascinating person then", he joked – so not Severus Snape.

She laughed. "Fascinating – yes. Frightening – yes. Unfriendly – yes. Brave – yes", she replied, growing more pensive. "You have the same voice, the same eyes", she paused again and he used that break in her speech to nod at the waiter who had poured him some wine. He had tasted and it was good. Not that he knew much about wine.

"Maybe you're related to him?"

"Who is he? Maybe I am", he forced himself to say. She was getting so close, so close. Damn, bright witch.

"His name is, was, Severus Snape..."

"What kind of a name is that?", he laughed. "Severus? Are you serious?"

She giggled. "Serious – Sirius – yes."

"So – Severus Snape. No, I don't think I'm related to him. But you said it _was_ his name?"

"He fell", she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

"He fell? Was he in some kind of war?", he was glad he had years of experience in lying. Had he fallen? Wait – if he had died that day – would he have fallen? Like a soldier? Well – he had been a soldier, hadn't he? A spy soldier. No – not him. Dammit. Not him. Severus Snape, the strange person she was talking about.

"Something like that. He died defending a lot of people."

He shook his head – Severus Snape because he couldn't believe something like this straight from Hermione Granger's mouth – Jack Torrance because he didn't quite understand. "I don't..."

She smiled. "It doesn't matter. He was a good man – a noble man. And if he'd be alive today, I think there were many, many people who would be very grateful. He would probably be adored", she shrugged. "But since he died – he's one of those heroes."

He raised his eyebrows. "If it was that big, it must have been in the news surely? Maybe I've heard of it?"

She shook his head. "We were a little community. In Scotland."

"I see", he nodded. "Like a sect then?" He did his best to pull his face into a suspicious mask.

Hermione Granger laughed again. "No."

* * *

Okay – so he wasn't Severus Snape. Or Severus Snape was sitting there opposite her and knew exactly what he was doing. But he would surely at least blink, give himself away, twitch, anything when she praised him. Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Or was he that good an actor? Was Severus Snape that nice? Was his smile really that attractive?

She couldn't remember ever seeing Severus Snape smile and yet – now – he constantly did it. Had his voice always had that soft, sweet quality to it?

Maybe – maybe – she had only ever seen him as a teacher, never a man. However – now, there was a man sitting opposite her, sipping his wine, playing idly with the glass. He had held the chair out for her – he had offered her his arm.

She smiled suddenly. It didn't matter – well, it did – but not for the moment. She wanted to enjoy that evening out. Get to know the man opposite her – whether it was him or not. There was still time to find that out. Patience.

"So what do you do? Except take care of wayward girls?", she smirked.

He lifted his hand for a moment as the waiter came close. In almost fluent Italian, he ordered and since she nodded, he seemed to order for her too.

It only took him a moment, then his focus seemed to be completely on her again and he spoke softly but steadily. "I used to own a bookshop. I sold it and at the moment I'm in no hurry to find anything else."

"A bookshop?", she asked, her curiosity spiked. "How interesting."

"Back in Gateshead. I only came here a few months ago."

Her face lit up again. A newcomer, an English newcomer in the city as well. "Wow – I only came here a few weeks ago as well. What kind of bookshop was it?"

"Used books", he smiled. "But it was my dream to come here"

He was getting more interesting every single minute. Used books. "Do you like to read then?"

"Absolutely", he smiled at her and it seemed his hand inched closer to hers on the table. "I take it you're taking care of your child at the moment? Not working?"

She felt herself blush slightly. She had, of course, thought about what to tell him. And she had decided that sticking to the truth as closely as possible was probably best.

"No, I'm working at the embassy", she lied smoothly.

* * *

Contrary to popular belief, Severus Snape didn't glare at students during meals – he observed them. Ronald Weasley, for instance, ate everything that happened to come between his greedy fingers and he knew that Hermione Granger had no troubles eating sprouts but disliked pineapple.

He had ordered what he thought she liked and of course he knew her well enough (everybody did – probably all the wizards and witches in England these days) to know that she was obsessed with books. So then what would be simpler than to turn himself into a retired, used bookseller? She would be putty in his hands before the night was over. Especially since she had just made a mistake.

Poor Hermione Granger had lied.

"The embassy? The British Embassy?", he asked, pretending to be innocent. No way a famous witch would work there.

"Erm", and she looked a little prettier – even though a little younger – when she blushed. "Yes. It's just a small scale job but it leaves me time to deal with Jack."

"Jack?", he grinned. "Me?"

She blushed again and he really wanted to see how far down the blush reached. "My son", she laughed a bit nervously and he knew it was his chance. Hit and kill, so to speak.

His hand moved even closer to hers and slowly, tentatively, his fingertips brushed over hers and he let his large hand rest on top of hers, every once in a while letting his thumb brush over her soft indexes.

Of course he was nervous – and of course his heart beat wildly. But that was not because of her – that was because he was quite out of shape – apparently – when it came to spying and all the things necessary to keep up the act. He noticed however, the softness of her hand, her blush, her not flinching or pulling away but settling her hand more comfortably, somehow.

It was because he wasn't sure what was happening next and because he knew that adrenaline could sometimes be helpful in situations like that and not because she smiled at him like that that his pulse had quickened.

He smiled back and looked into her eyes. Deeply. Almost as deeply as Severus Snape usually looked into the eyes of people he wanted to use Legilimency on. They were – objectively, of course – lovely. Big and brown. Quite interesting really – and if he would still be Severus Snape, he would definitely try hard to concentrate and without a wand, without practise, delve into her mind. But he wasn't. He shouldn't even know that something like Legilimency could be possible.

But it would have made things easier. Now he needed to find out the hard way what the building really was. Was she telling part of the truth? Was she really working at the embassy? Was there a magical embassy these days? It would make perfect sense – probably.

Patience – he needed patience. She would tell him – in time. He would find out.

And besides, he had nothing better to do with his time anyway. He could spent it getting to know her. Or pretending to.

"Do you like working there?", he asked, squeezing her hand a little.

* * *

The touch was, quite simply – magnificent. His hand was so warm to the touch and it was much softer than she would have thought. His thumb was drawing little circles on her skin and he looked so deeply into her eyes. Had she even felt the slightest tuck somewhere on the front of her mind – she would have thought he was using Legilimency on her. But there wasn't even the slightest pinch and she – careful and vigilant as she was – allowed herself to stare back into his eyes and enjoy his hand on hers.

She kept herself from sighing and leant forward a bit, her chin in her hand. He had listened to him – she could listen to him all the time but his words did not fully register in her mind. She heard the words but didn't understand the meaning. She felt herself blush – again (what was she? A stupid teenager?) - and as he laughingly repeated the question, she answered, with a smile.

"I like it a lot. Especially since I can keep Jack by my side so much", she smiled at him. It seemed odd, really – she could smile so much at him. Maybe – after the war, after the gruelling business with rebuilding a large portion of their world, after Harry's de-aging, after the break-up with Ron, after everything ugly she had seen (and experienced) – Jack, the little Jack, had helped her opening up a little, smiling more, crying less. And the bigger Jack – he simply drew out the best in her. Or something.

And she felt herself leaning closer towards him – subconsciously.

* * *

He asked, she asked, he answered, she answered. It was a good conversation and while he sometimes greatly enjoyed the mindless (well, maybe – it was mostly Italian) chatter of Letitia because it gave him time to observe other things – it felt oddly nice to have someone to really talk to.

To have a grown-up conversation. With Hermione Granger. The thought alone made Severus Snape cringe inwardly. But he had to admit that she was a witty person, a lovely woman.

She had enjoyed her meal – the little sounds she made while eating – tiny sighs and even moans – made him enjoy his. He had a chance to closely study her when she had closed her eyes for brief moments while chewing. He was proud of himself. He hadn't lost his touch.

By the end of the evening, she had told him that her parents were living in Australia (still? Hadn't she reversed the memory charm?), that she had gone to a boarding school in Scotland (some boarding school, of course), that her best friend had gone on a long trip (Potter? Weasley? Why?) and that she enjoyed the city immensely. That she loved to read (who would have thought), could knit quite well (he merely hoped that there weren't any house elves where she lived) and was sometimes insecure about parenting (the question was whether the child was magical or not – but then again he didn't know anything about raising children) and that she had left her boyfriend to come to Rome (Weasley? Potter? Someone else entirely?) but that it hadn't gone well for a while before that (Weasley? Potter? Someone else entirely?).

He merely told her that he liked the smell of old books, a certain café near the school Letitia attended, that he preferred Italian food to English food, that he had spent most of his life in Gateshead and only through multiple trips discovered that he wanted to stay in Italy. That he was currently learning Italian but that it still wasn't good enough.

Only when they were sipping their espressos after the meal, after he had taken her hand again, had he told her that he'd quite like to meet her again.

And Hermione Granger – brightest witch of her age – had blushed again and had nodded instantly. And for the first time, he couldn't pretend that it was nervousness which caused his heart to beat faster after it had skipped a beat – for the first time, he noticed how relaxed he really was. That he hadn't once looked over his shoulder. Had not once glanced around furtively. That he was completely comfortable in her presence.

Then why was it beating faster? Was it her fingers that had entwined with his? Or was it the fact that she walked close to him after he had paid for their meal? Was it her fresh flowery scent?

No.

Surely it was the wine and strong coffee.

Of course.

* * *

Whoever this man was – she really wanted to see him again. Soon. The next day, if possible. And she didn't want him to let go off her hand. No. She wanted more than that, actually – and usually, she wasn't a girl (was she? How should she know?) who did something on the first date. Not that she ever had a real first date. She had even told him about Ron. And she had never had a first date with Ron. They had kissed, simply and then they had been together. Nothing more, nothing less.

But with him – if he tried to kiss her, she certainly wouldn't back away.

She noticed, with a fluttering feeling in her stomach, that the distance between them as they walked back to the embassy was getting smaller and smaller. And yet, she needed to find a way for him to let go of her before she was in front of the embassy.

She stood standing in front of a building – a mere street away from where the embassy was – and took his other hand as well. She gazed up at him.

"I need to pick up Jack from the babysitter", she fibbed.

* * *

The moment she came to a halt, he knew that she would not make the mistake of walking right in front of the embassy with him. And for her to come up with the babysitter was a rather good idea. Had he really been a muggle through and through – he would have never suspected her hiding something.

So he played along. Sort of.

"When will I see you?", he asked, rubbing his thumbs over her palms in lazy circles.

"Tomorrow?", she asked and he noticed a hopeful expression on her face.

As he had thought – she was putty in her hands.

And somehow, the thought wasn't as enticing as it had been. He didn't understand the why, however.

* * *

Suddenly, he acted on impulse and she seemed to have the same thought. At exactly the same moment, he bent down slightly as she tilted her head up.

Their lips met slowly.

* * *

She couldn't understand. There was a tingling sensation in her spine, spreading through her entire body and her stomach seemed to drop at least three stories as she felt his soft, warm lips upon hers, their fingers still intertwined.

She kissed his bottom lip slowly and her stomach seemed to drop even further when he carefully, tentatively, deepened the kiss.

* * *

He couldn't understand. There was a tingling sensation in his spine, spreading through his entire body and his stomach seemed to drop as he felt her warm, soft lips upon his, slowly kissing his lower lip.

Somehow, his body, his mouth, his tongue, reacted before he could. He needed to taste her, he needed to explore that delicious-looking mouth of hers.

His hands had to touch her back, her neck, her face. And his body did all of those things on its own as he felt his stomach drop further and an immediate sensation shooting into his groin.

* * *

She forgot the time, she forgot the concept of time. She only knew it was her and him – her body and his. She had forgotten her own name by the time they pulled apart.

He traced, lovingly, she thought, her lips with his fingertips.

"Tomorrow?", he asked softly.

"Tomorrow", she answered.

__


	17. Happenings

**_The usual disclaimers apply._**

**_

* * *

_**

Millicent Bulstrode was unnerved – to say the least – by Hermione Granger's chipper attitude during the following days. The former Gryffindor had a fat smile plastered on her face 24/7, looked in the distance with a dreamy expression on her face.

She knew what had happened. The fourth night in a row, Millie had to babysit Jack. Not that she minded, she loved the little fellow. But it was apparent that Hermione Granger had a beau. Or a suitor. Or plenty of dates.

And to be honest, somehow, she couldn't understand how Hermione could leave a lovely boy, her child, alone like this so often. If she...

If she had a child...

If she had a child, she wouldn't leave him or her alone.

Ever.

Not that she...

She shook her head as she left her desk and went to her private rooms – to once again watch over Jack. And she hadn't even told her anything about the mysterious man.

Millie sometimes wondered how Hermione could trust her enough to keep her child safe – but not enough to tell her anything about a lover. And even more, she wondered how long she could still endure how suspiciously Hermione Granger treated her sometimes.

Had it been only for her – she would have told her days ago – probably weeks ago – about her role in the war, why she was there at all. And Draco – Draco was on her side. He believed in confiding in the golden girl of Gryffindor (though she wasn't sure why he thought so).

But Kingsley – Kingsley was adamant.

And somehow, Millie knew she depended on him. They depended on him. At least until it was done. Merlin only knew how long that would take.

She knocked on the door and, hearing a faint 'come in', she pushed it opened and almost immediately, had a handful of boy in her arms. She laughed, picked him up and kissed his cheek. Jack was always happy to see her, even though he spent a lot of time with her anyway, always toddling in between his mother's office and Millie's desk. But the little one had connected to her and she was glad.

Her glimpse fell on Hermione and her eyes almost glazed over for a moment. She looked quite – well – quite beautiful.

"Must be some man", she muttered quietly.

"He is", Hermione had heard her – apparently – and answered. "Would you bring him to bed?"

Millie nodded, though she shook her head internally. "Of course I will." Granger simply didn't know how lucky she was. How truly lucky. A child – a boyfriend she could see – a very good job – no pressure – no … well. She shouldn't pity herself.

And besides, she had promised Jack to conjure him a rocking dragon and let him ride on it. And read him a story. Or two.

Hermione kissed and cuddled him for a moment before she smiled at Millie and left.

* * *

Letitia couldn't believe her luck. Or his luck – depending. He always pretended to be huffy – but when she caught a look of him when he thought she wasn't watching him – he looked free, somehow – happy. He smiled a lot. And he was out every night and when he came home (and she pretended to sleep), he hummed. Jack Torrance actually hummed!

She smiled at him as he got ready for another evening out. He used her liquid make up without qualms now to cover the botched up tattoo. And she understood. It was an ugly thing, really. A snake. Snakes were so out. Really.

She laughed loudly as he struggled with the cuffs again and even louder when he fought with a strand of hair that kept falling on his forehead.

He glared at her – she knew that glare by now. It meant get-up-and-help-me-or-else. And she did. Letitia got up and with a little wax, fixed his hair and straightened his cuffs.

"Ready?", she asked curiously.

He simply nodded, looking one last time in the mirror.

"I could spend night outside. You can bring..."

"You can forget about that", he interrupted her viciously. "You will do no such thing. I won't let you spend the night somewhere with God knows who trying to get into your panties."

She looked solemnly up at him. "I can take care of myself."

"I know that", he grabbed her by the upper arms and held her tight. "It's got nothing to do with it. That fu...erm, that so..., that man could still be out there somewhere."

She shook her head and gently lay her head on his chest. "Thank you", she whispered.

"What for?", he asked back, wrapping his arms around her.

"Protect me."

He chuckled and she could feel the vibrations in his chest. "Stay here. Is that understood?"

She nodded and tightened her arms – that had found her way around his waist somehow – for a moment before she let go. She pushed herself up on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek.

He smiled – again that smile, that lovely smile – and bent down himself, pressing a kiss on her forehead. "Be good, Letitia."

* * *

He shuffled towards the bookshelf. This had to be it. It just had to. Otherwise it wouldn't have been worth it. Otherwise...he didn't even want to think about the consequences.

Every step hurt and when he fingered his lip, he felt a wetness there that hadn't been there before. Pulling his index away, he saw the bright red blood. Stupid him – stupid him – stupid her.

It didn't matter. His ankle hurt – his wrist – his elbow. And his stomach. Liquid – oh no. The lip wasn't what was bleeding. He looked down and bit on the inside of his cheek.

Deep gnash. Deep, deep gnash.

Just one more step. Lifting the arm. Pulling it out. Hoping it was right. Finding it.

Hoping he had the strength to apparate. There was no time to get to a floo.

"Master has to gets away", the urgent voice sounded – squeakily.

"Grab that for me, will you?", he gasped.

Finally he had it in his hands. It had to be it.

He heard the voices coming closer. Angry. Shouting. "Get out of there! Come here! Traitor!"

He could leave. If he would only concentrate enough.

Ignore the seeping wound. Ignore it. Think of Millie. Think of Millie. Think of Millie.

There was a noise and the door to the library was pushed open.

* * *

"Hey", Hermione meet him on the corner again – their corner. Jack thought her babysitter lived there. She smiled and gave him a peck on the cheek.

"Hello", he greeted back and wrapped one arm around her waist. Together they began to walk slowly.

"Jack?", she asked after a moment of comfortable silence.

"Yes, Hermione?", he looked down at her and smiled. That smile she had learned to adore. To love?

"I, erm, do you, erm, it's Sunday the day after tomorrow."

He chuckled, and pulled her a little closer. "You're stating the obvious."

"Yes, I know", she laughed nervously. It was too early, wasn't it? But he couldn't do more than say no, could he? And the way she had gotten to know him – he talked a lot about Letitia, had confessed that she had saved her from a potential rape, had done something heroic, talked about how happy (proud, she thought from the gleam in his eyes when he talked about her) he was that she was doing okay in school after that, that she helped a lot in the household, that she did a lot of chores for him – he was a kind man. Quite the opposite of Severus Snape actually.

How she could have ever thought that they were the same person, she never knew. Granted, they had the same voice, their hands were similar and sometimes, his eyes seemed exactly like Snape's but he would have never acted this way towards another human being. She had even allowed herself a few jokes – he had laughed – she had made fun of herself – he hadn't mocked her. He never mocked her. When they were together, his focus was on her, not on anything else. He never looked around furtively. He was relaxed, he touched her.

Severus Snape had only once or twice touched her. But never this way. Of course not, a small portion of her mind said, she had been his student. He touched her so gently, always held her hand, caressed her fingers, her face. Embraced her. And he could kiss.

She remembered Severus Snape's teeth clearly – and she could tell for sure that Jack had different teeth, straighter, a bit whiter.

She lay her head against his shoulder as they slowly strolled down the Roman streets and sighed.

"Hermione?", he asked again. "What about Sunday?"

"I, erm, I thought that maybe..."

"You want to meet Letitia", he guessed.

She shrugged. "Yes. And I'd like you to..."

"Meet little Jack again", he finished her thought and kissed her head. "Of course. I'd love to. We'll all get together for an ice-cream."

She beamed up at him and stopped abruptly. She pushed herself up on her toes and kissed him on the mouth. "Thank you", she whispered against his lips.

* * *

Of course he would cringe inwardly. Meeting the little one. Letting her meet Letitia. This was getting very cosy. Too cosy. But thank Mer...dammit...God, Letitia didn't know a lot about him either. He would make sure she didn't tell about the Dark Mark, and her being what she had been. For her sake. And her sake. Both the women's sakes.

The lies got easier though. Finally, he seemed to get the hang of Jack Torrance.

Jack Torrance was a physical man – he liked touching people – he hugged and kissed Letitia fatherly, he hugged and kissed Hermione completely differently. He laughed, he didn't mock, he didn't belittle, he didn't make fun.

Jack Torrance was gentle, kind, listened. And he talked – without sneers, without scowls, without threats.

Jack Torrance was the complete opposite of Severus Snape.

Or maybe...sometimes, sometimes he (and in those moments he wasn't sure who he was) thought that Severus Snape could have been Jack Torrance. Under different circumstances.

But then again – the kiss she was initiating at that moment was worth enduring an afternoon with the baby (he only hoped he wouldn't call him daddy again). And maybe – maybe Hermione and him would go a step further.

If they could find a location to do that.

* * *

Millie grinned at the boy who was fighting to keep his eyes open, to listen to the end of the story. She kissed him softly, whispered her good night and tucked the covers closer around him before she continued reading.

His eyes fell shut, then he snapped them open again – repeating the same pattern for a few minutes. She was still reading – her voice growing ever softer. His eyes fell shut again and they remained close for a little longer. She only read the story in a whisper now, holding the book with one hand, the other brushing his hair from his forehead.

What a beautiful boy. She could have...

She smiled sadly. Fate – fate. Probably.

It was so peaceful, so serene. She longed for that. Deep down, Millicent Bulstrode wanted nothing more than to have that. Draco probably in the other room, reading, or maybe in the same room, sitting with her, with their child.

She swallowed a tear. Maybe one day. Maybe.

Jack seemed to sleep. He wasn't forcing his eyes open anymore and he looked like a little angel (that he certainly wasn't when he was awake), his little hand next to his cheek.

"Oh Jack", she whispered, then jumped. Her reflexes were still excellent and before her mind even registered the noise – or what the noise was – her wand was drawn and she had swung around.

She gasped. "Draco!", she cried and fell to her knees next to her boyfriend.

He lay on the floor, bleeding heavily from a wound somewhere on his stomach. He looked at her and obviously tried to smile – and failed miserably

"Oh thank Merlin, Millie", he rasped before his pupils seemed to have a life of their own – showing her only the whites of his eyes.

****


	18. Draco and the Minister

**_The usual disclaimers apply._**

**_

* * *

_**

"Draco!", Millie screamed and pushed the robes he was wearing aside, ripping the shirt off of him. There was a deep wound on his stomach, right across it – it looked like a mild Sectumsempra. Again.

She concentrated, and spoke the incantation softly, her wand just over the deep cut. She had her eyes closed and wished and hoped with all her being that he hadn't lost too much blood yet. He had bruises as well, deep-purple bruises, large and angry looking. She would deal with them later.

She was grateful she had had a basic healing class before she started at the Ministry and the war had taught her a thing or two. Especially in healing. And defence.

"Come on, babe", she muttered softly, waving her wand over his body. A rib was probably broken and a finger as well. His elbow didn't seem okay – his wrist – his ankle.

"Oh oh, what happened? Draco, tell me what happened?", she asked, desperate, almost, tears streaming down her face. His breathing had evened a bit and his eyes were closed now. When had that happened?

"Draco, wake up, love, please? Draco? Please?", she leaned over him, kissing his lips gently.

"Millie!", Jack cried, apparently scared from his bed.

"Oh bloody hell", she cursed almost silently and heavily stood up to pick the little one up. How had Draco managed to get to her? It was difficult to apparate when one only wished to see a certain person – not impossible but difficult. Very, very much so. She sat on the bed next to him and let him crawl into her lap. "Do you remember Draco, sweetie? He's sleeping on your floor right now. He's very tired because he's a little sick."

"Dra...co", Jack repeated and looked suspiciously at the pale blonde man lying on his nursery floor. Then he decided that he was probably really ill – red water from the stomach couldn't be good and he snuggled closer into Millie's ample chest.

Little Jack let out a contented sigh and mewed when she rubbed his back.

Suddenly, she didn't notice at first, quietly, the door opened. She whipped her head around and knew she had no other choice to get Draco away before...

* * *

"What's that?", Hermione asked angrily, pointing at Draco. She only then took a closer look.

Blood.

A darkening spot on the carpet.

Blood stains all over the shirt that was hanging on both his sides. She quickly rushed towards him and fell on the floor. "Is he okay?", she asked rapidly.

Millie nodded dumbly.

"What happened?", she asked again, this time, truly concerned.

"I don't know yet. He passed out. Do we have..."

"I'll get the Blood-Replenishing Potion", Hermione got up quickly, slipped her heels off, left them in her son's room and ran to her bathroom. She kept her medicine cabinet (a muggle thing she had brought from England) stocked with potions and with almost trembling fingers, she picked out the potion. Where had he come from? And what had happened to him? She would find out – no matter what.

She was back in her son's room, on the floor before she knew it and with Millie's help, who had her boyfriend's head on her lap after she had put Jack down again, even though Hermione somehow felt that he was still watching, she tipped the potion in his mouth. She then looked up at her assistant and saw that her former classmate was truly – truly worried. She had obviously cried and Hermione felt her heart going out to her. And her mind turned immediately to...

Jack Torrance.

Swept her off her feet that one. Kissed her so passionately, so hungrily and so tenderly. All of that.

And she could only imagine what Millie had to feel in that moment.

"Are you alright?", she asked softly.

Millicent nodded simply, brushing Draco's hair from his face. "I'm worried", she choked.

It was Hermione's turn to nod. "I understand. Would you tell me what happened?"

"I don't know myself", she shrugged, then added, very softly, almost inaudibly: "But I'll tell you what I know. He can say what he wants."

"He?"

Draco chose that moment to cough and open his eyes. "Millie", his voice was raspy and it even sounded painful.

"Babe?", Millie bent down, looking deeply into his eyes.

"I suppose he'll stay in your room?", Hermione asked quietly before she settled on her son's bed.

"Granger", Draco stated weakly. "I'm..."

"It's okay – you get well, then we talk", she replied, trying to keep the coldness out of her voice.

"Millie, floo Kingsley. I think I got it", he whispered. "In the left pocket of my robe."

"You stay", Hermione interrupted. "I'll get him. I take it it's very urgent."

Draco nodded and tried to push himself up on his elbows – and failed. He fell back and coughed again. "Gr...Hermione, tell him that", he breathed, "it's what he wanted. That I have what he needed."

"I will", she smiled a little.

"Thank you", he looked sincerely at her and nodded.

"Don't talk, babe", Millie interrupted. "I'll levitate you to our room, alright?"

* * *

She knelt in front of the floo, her mind whirring. She wanted – needed – an explanation and soon. Millie seemed agreeable to tell her something. And she would be adamant to get at least the facts.

"Kingsley?", she asked into the floo, seeing the poor man in his pyjamas only.

"Hermione? What's so urgent?", he asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"Draco Malfoy's on the floor of my son's bedroom, bleeding..."

"Step away, I'm coming through."

So – apparently it was something of great importance. She raised her eyebrows and was prepared to follow the Minister of Magic everywhere he went. And she certainly still wanted – needed – that explanation.

* * *

"Are you in love?", Letitia asked from behind the curtain that separated his bed from hers.

He had known she wasn't asleep. No, he hadn't known, he had suspected. And he was humming. Why was he humming? Humming was a step away from whistling. And that only a step away from singing. And that only a step away from singing some infernal, muggle musical number. Or a Celestina Warbeck song. He huffed and pushed the curtain aside slightly.

She sat in bed, in a large t-shirt (that actually belonged to him), the covers pulled up to her stomach, her hands folded in her lap – a huge grin on her face.

"What was it you were asking?", he asked again, his arms crossed over his chest, eyebrows raised, tapping his foot.

"Are you in love?", she repeated pleasantly, still grinning.

"Why would I be in love?"

"You need evidence?"

He nodded, still towering over her until she patted the bed next to her, scooted over a bit and he, reluctantly, sat down.

"You look happy", Letitia stated innocently, and her grin had turned into a smile. "You are relaxed and you always look forward to evenings. You take care of yourself, you went to hairdressers yesterday, and you smile a lot. Enough evidence?"

He rolled his eyes. "We're meeting her and her baby on Sunday", he merely said.

"I meet little Jack?", Letitia jumped with glee.

"How do you know about the child?", he asked suspiciously.

"She carried him when we followed her and you talk about her and him sometimes", she grinned again. "Know what? You don't have to tell me. I know you're in love and I'm happy about it."

Letitia pushed herself up on her knees and on those, she moved closer to him until she knelt right at his side and flung her arms around him. She kissed his slightly stubbly cheek first before she lay her head on his shoulder. "But when you and her get...erm, serious, you will send me back."

He snorted again and caressed her bare arms with his knuckles. "I will never send you back", he whispered fiercely. "No matter what happens to me and Hermione, I will not send you back. Do you understand?"

She shrugged. "I'd be in way, of course. But I could babysit. And I could help in household. Don't have to go to school, can do things around the house."

He shook his head and unwrapped her arms from around his neck where she had held him in a vice-like grip and sat her down in front of him. Lucky she was such a slip of a girl.

"Listen to me, Letitia. I will never send you anywhere. I brought you here and I'll adopt you, or try to adopt you if you'd like. If that makes me you believe that I will not send you away."

"Adopt me?", she paled, her mouth hanging open.

"You don't want that."

"No, no, no. No! I want that! But..."

"Good, I'll go to the authorities first thing on Monday. Do you have a passport or something?"

"Adopt me? You become officially babbo?"

He chuckled and pulled her into his arms. "Yes, officially your father."

"Why?", she asked, looking up.

He smiled and kissed her temple. "I don't know. Because I want to."

She sniffed. "Why so nice? Since I met you you were nice."

He shook his head. "I don't know." Or maybe I do know – he thought. Maybe she's my final redemption. The girl I had to save because I couldn't safe so many. Because I had to. Because...for once, maybe, I can do something nice without having to hide it.

What? That couldn't be. No. He had never had the wish to be out in the open, to be known as a good man. Potter – Potter – would certainly...no, Hermione had somewhat confessed that he had taken off. He had not been the new Minister of Magic.

"_My best friend, he left England to be alone for a while, for travelling. He felt a lot of pressure on himself and I can't blame him. And his best friend – you know we had been friends since first year in school – was my boyfriend, we ended things just before I got little Jack. His family, he has a rather large family, at first thought Jack was mine. I mean how blind can you be? I couldn't hide a child like that...", she had confessed. _

_With a concealment charm she could have certainly hidden a pregnancy, but not the little one. "Not that hellion, no.", he grinned._

"_Hey, you haven't even met him properly", she laughed and slapped his arm._

He could understand – probably for the first time in his life – Potter. The wizarding society was surely fawning over him. And that he couldn't stand that – well, he did understand. Why had Severus Snape _died_?

"I just like you very much, Letitia", he ground out and with a squeal, the girl was flush against him, sniffing into his robes.

"Can we go to authority together?", she asked, muffled against his shirt.

"After school, yes."

"We have to go in the morning. It's always full there in afternoons", she argued.

"I would have guessed. But you go to school first and then you can call my pronto and we'll meet, alright?", he asked, smoothing down her long black hair, letting his fingers glide through the strands of hair.

"Adopt me?", she asked again, incredulously.

"Adopt you – let you be Letitia Sn...erm, Torrance", he was glad that her face was still buried in his chest. Damn slip of the tongue. Where had that come from? He had been Torrance for so long now? Why start with Snape now?

She hadn't noticed – apparently. He sighed inaudibly and put his chin on top of her head for a moment, before he pulled back and kissed her forehead. "Sleep, Letitia."

"Can we buy dress tomorrow for meeting with Herm-i-o-ne and Jack?", she asked sneakily, grinning underneath some tears that had fallen.

He chuckled good-naturedly. "Maybe. Go to sleep now."

* * *

Millie stood in front of the door to the nursery, the child in her arms when Hermione came towards her. She raised a questioning eyebrow, took the child from her and he snuggled up to his mummy immediately.

"What's going on?", Hermione asked softly – she really felt with the girl now. Obviously, this was serious business and she was in the middle of it. Deduction had always been her strong suit and there had been a few pointers throughout the time she had spent with her assistant. "He sent you here because of...", she trailed of and pointed at the door.

"Sort of", Millie swallowed hard. "It's...difficult."

Hermione hummed in understanding and kissed her almost sleeping son before she handed him back to Millie. "Wait here a moment, please. I really want to talk with you."

Millie nodded and placed Jack's head on the crook of her neck. "I'll bring him to your room, let him sleep there for the time being."

"Thank you", Hermione replied, the handle of the door already in her hand. She pushed it open without knocking and interestedly observed the scene before her for a moment.

Kingsley stood straight, looking down at Draco who was now sitting and leaning against Jack's closet. He had just hidden a book – or something looking like a book – behind his back – behind the bright green pyjamas.

"I'd quite like to know what's going on", she stated, her voice steely.

"Miss Granger, I'd appreciate some privacy", Kingsley sounded angry.

"Draco Malfoy just apparates into my son's room, bleeding and obviously hurt – I think I can demand an explanation."

"Nothing of the sort", he replied, threatening her with his glance. "This is between Mister Malfoy and myself."

She had to bit her lip from shouting. Did everyone think she would stand back and be kept in the dark? Especially since there seemed to be danger involved? "Surely", she said, faking friendliness, "however, I live here, my son lives here and Draco Malfoy was obviously assaulted. I think I have a right to now. I'm the ambassador here and this is my son's room."

"Get out, silly girl! Don't meddle in things you don't understand", he began to shout. She had never known Kingsley to be so – angry, so horrid.

She sent him a glare which she hoped would convey her assuredness to get to the bottom of everything, then looked at Draco. Odd – that. He was looking back at her, pleading with her, somehow.

"And Mister Malfoy will stay here. There's no need trying to apparate, you'll only splinch yourself", she said coldly, "only I can draw up the wards as you know. You can use the floo in the entrance hall. And don't think I don't know if you try and leave this house."

It was true – she as the ambassador had been given the possibility to cast anti-apparation wards and as she lifted her wand, she did so. She sneered at him arrogantly, surprising herself and walked out of the room, her shoulders erect.

"We have to tell her", she heard Draco plead before she went to find Millie. That woman would tell her the truth – otherwise she would order, or buy, or brew Veritaserum.

* * *

He peered behind the curtain and saw that Letitia was indeed asleep. Why had he done it? Why had he offered to adopt her?

Technically, it made things simpler. She could stay with him without anyone questioning it. She would have security again. But what was in it for him?

Yes – what was in it for him?

Nothing.

He frowned. Well – there was. A little stirring in his chest, a warm feeling spreading from there.

A family – someone who loved him – for free. That was in it for him.

He smiled.

Jack Torrance had obviously taken over completely.

Though – why had he begun to say Snape? Why?

Confusion, maybe. Because Hermione Granger had turned his head. Somehow.

He smiled.

No more loneliness – that was in it for him.

* * *

"Millie?", she asked softly as she saw her sitting on the edge of the bed, watching her son.

"Is he still with Draco?", Millie asked, looking up.

Hermione nodded and sat down next to her assistant. "Please tell me what's going on."

"I will", she whispered. "Let's get out of here though, let the little man sleep."

Hermione nodded and waited for her to get up. "Kitchen", she whispered.

****


	19. Confession

**_The usual disclaimers apply._**

**_

* * *

_**

As Hermione took the kettle from the fire and poured it in two mugs over teabags, the two women heard the whooshing of the floo. Hermione sighed audibly, smiling at Millie. She was still quiet and while Hermione was desperately impatient, she forced herself to wait – to wait until the slightly younger woman was ready to talk.

Besides – she would not let her leave the kitchen until she had.

There was shuffling outside the door to the kitchen and both of them jumped up.

"Mind if I join you?", Draco asked, obviously in pain still.

Millie rushed to him immediately and helped him sit down in a chair. Hermione put her mug of tea in front of him, handed Millie hers and turned to make herself a new one.

"Are you okay?", Millie asked.

"I have been better", he joked. "But yes. Erm, Gr...Granger, Hermione", he stuttered, "contrary to what the Minister thinks, I do believe I owe you an explanation."

"I wanted to tell her anyway", Millicent Bulstrode nodded at him and pulled a chair very close to his, taking his hand in hers, and Hermione saw how she was gently stroking his knuckles and fingers.

"I'm just wondering", Hermione began tentatively – pretending – as she was very curious, naturally, "how it happened that you appeared, or apparated, I'm not sure, bloody and hurt in my son's room."

"Was it your father?", Millie asked.

Draco nodded dumbly and took a careful sip of the tea. "Her...do you mind if I call you Hermione?"

She chuckled mildly. "Not if you don't mind me calling you Draco."

He shook his head and smiled, suddenly grimacing at the pain.

"We really need to get you some potions", Millie interrupted just as he wanted to speak.

"Tomorrow", Draco soothed her by quickly running the back of his fingers slowly down her cheek. "I need to get this off my chest. And Chubbs, you do as well."

"Chubbs?", Hermione raised her eyebrows and – deciding against tea – bringing a bottle of wine from the fridge, three glasses from the cupboard, she sat down and poured herself some, with a gesture, inviting the other two to help themselves. Millie poured herself some, Draco declined with a muttered, 'Potions'.

"So?", Hermione's lacking patience was growing thinner and thinner.

"My father – Hermione, I'm sure that, erm, many things that you hate about me...no", he breathed, "look, there is no easy explanation. I had a job to do. It took me a while but now it's done. I had to stay at the Manor while it wasn't finished but now that it is..."

"You can stay here", Hermione finished. "But..."

"Draco, please. That's hardly an explanation.", Millie chided.

Draco sighed. "I took a vow. Not an Unbreakable, but something close. No – maybe not even that. I was kept out of Azkaban by Shacklebolt but I had to offer him things for it. I had to deliver. Tonight, I delivered that last thing."

"A kind of book", Hermione stated.

"Not a kind of book, a book. My father", he closed his eyes tightly for a moment, "had dark books and Shacklebolt didn't doubt that my father would strive for power again. With spells, curses that are unknown these days, ancient magic, old magic. With people he knows, who want the same thing. I never wanted this. Well, I might have once but not anymore. I've seen too many fall. I might still have felt loyalty towards my father, towards my family but when he..."

"Draco", Millie interrupted him and squeezed his hand tightly.

"Anyway", he continued, "I saw my father for what he really was, what he really is. My mother is an empty shell. She escaped into Firewhiskey and – ironically – muggle drugs. Coke. Heroine. But my father – I know there are rumours that he's gone dotty, that he's nothing anymore, but it's not true. My father is willing to sacrifice a lot – for the beliefs he had never shed", Draco swallowed hard. "He wants to take the place of you-know-who."

"But he doesn't have the power that He had, does he?", Hermione sipped her wine slowly.

Draco shrugged. "He was trying to find followers and he was succeeding. A lot of...Hermione, a lot of people our age, maybe a bit older, maybe a bit younger, they lost a lot. The aurors, the Order, believe me, I've experienced it first hand – they were not the kind, gentle heroes everyone makes them out to be. People were killed, people were imprisoned, innocent people. By Order members. There are those who hold grudges."

"And so your father is trying to..."

"Fight the next war. For f...damn, Hermione, he's never given up. He's cost me almost everything that I love..."

"He hurt you, didn't he?", Hermione looked sternly at Millie.

"Yes", she said in a little voice.

"He didn't just hurt her", he countered angrily – very angrily. "He hurt me, he almost killed her. He killed our..."

"Draco!", Millie said sharply.

"No, Millie. My father killed our child."

"What?", Hermione was dumbstruck. "He did..."

"A curse. My womb. I miscarried", Millie put her face in her hands. "That's why..."

"Why Kingsley sent her here. My father thinks we're not together anymore. Because Chubbs is a half-blood."

Hermione shook her head. "I don't understand."

"We kept our relationship secret. I knew Draco's father was working on gathering followers and I knew he wanted Draco to marry Parkinson or some other pureblood bitch. And then there's me, not pretty, not interesting, a half-blood. And Draco's fallen for me. I stayed in London, he stayed mostly at home."

"And of course my father finds out", Draco shrugged. "And Millie was invited to the Manor. And stupid as we are, we trust him. I trusted him. So we went. That was before..."

"Before I was pregnant", she finished his thought. "And they were all nice to me. Too nice, probably."

"Obviously too nice", he said gloomily, "and I thought, well, he's alright with people being half-bloods, he doesn't mind. Snape was a half-blood, you-know-who was one. So Millicent and me would be alright."

"We were..."

"For a while. Hermione, I asked Millie to marry me – we told my father. He was pleased – on the surface. We didn't know, no, she knew, I didn't, that Millie was pregnant. My father must have seen it, or guessed it or something and he cursed her. When she was on the floor, bleeding, in pain..."

"Draco", she pleaded and stood up, pacing the kitchen. "I don't know which curse he used. When I got out, with the help of an house elf, when I got to St Mungo's, there was nothing they could do. I was fine – well..."

"You weren't. You were worse off than I am now", Draco argued. "You had three broken ribs and Merlin only knows..."

"No. We will get children one day", she cried.

"I think I understand", Hermione said softly. "You don't have to tell me anything else."

"He threatened to kill me", Millie choked, spluttered, heaved. An outburst. Complete with flushed face and raging hands. "That's why I'm here. I was a damn pseudo-medi-witch on Order orders during the war, bringing Muggles back to life, bringing aurors back to life who were trapped with Death Eaters. I helped them – I got them out without raising suspicion. Because I'm the stupid little bitch who knows nothing except how to be used. That's what I did. And Lucius Malfoy tried to kill me because his son wasn't good enough for a damn half-blood."

"Oh God", Hermione groaned, and let her forehead – less than gently – fall on the table. "Why didn't you say something..."

"What would you have done?", Millie cried, "you would have pitied me. I hate pity. You despised me on sight when I came here. 'Don't give me any of that pureblood shit', you said. Me? You don't know, you just don't know!"

"I'm so sorry", Hermione whispered compassionately.

She merely raised her eyebrows. "Never assume, Granger. You hated me on sight, Draco on sight. We were working, we are working on the same side. I was playing dumb ever since I was 15 because I knew I had a role to play. And then I think I find some happiness with a guy who's well out of my league, but he loves me and than that's taken from me", she screeched.

Draco stood up heavily, shrugged at Hermione and planted himself in the middle of Millie's way who was still pacing. He simply opened his arms and his girlfriend fell into them – crying.

Hermione couldn't hear what he whispered in her ear but her stiffening posture relaxed and she could almost see the knees buckle.

"Hermione, would you help me?", he looked over his shoulder.

Hermione nodded – trying still to digest the news. She levitated Millie, then helped Draco walk.

"Will he come look for you?", she asked, quietly.

"I don't doubt it. I won't stay for long. Just the night", he answered a little sadly.

__


	20. Muggle Dresses

**_The usual disclaimers apply._**

**_

* * *

_**

It was hard keeping up with little Jack on the following day – after a night full of confessions, after tears from Millie, a near-breakdown and Draco's suspicion that he had to leave. Draco's full-blown sureness that he had to leave. Thank God those two were still asleep when little Jack was pulling Hermione's eyelids apart with two hands at six thirty in the morning.

He had – as it can be the custom of little boys – seated himself on her stomach, well, lower chest and had used both hands on one eyelid – had pulled it apart – and, for good measure, had blown into her eye. Then, the same procedure with her other eye.

Of course she couldn't sleep after that.

Not that she had slept long beforehand. Draco Malfoy was on her mind. And Millicent Bulstrode. She had a definite plan. And that involved Draco keeping there.

Besides – that was the thing she didn't understand in his explanation – why did Draco had to find those things for Kingsley if that wouldn't enable the Minister to imprison Lucius Malfoy? And if that had happened – there was probably anywhere he could go – without having to fear his father.

And if Kingsley Shacklebolt couldn't manage that, Hermione Granger knew enough spells to keep the embassy safe – Draco would not have to go anywhere.

Not that she wouldn't have reacted differently today – Millie had been quite harsh with her the night before – but Hermione understood. There was a big amount of emotional stress involved and she had just let go.

* * *

"You certainly can't be wearing that", he shook his head adamantly. "Too much cleavage."

"What?", she asked eyeing her reflection in the mirror.

"Cleavage", he repeated and with a wide gesture showed her what he meant, pointing at his own upper chest.

"Oh", she replied and looked down at her own body. "Not bad."

"Too bad", he replied and shook his head again – this time forcefully. "I'm not going to buy this for you."

Why was it – he wondered for the umpteenth – not the umpthousands – time that he was feeling like her father? He had – technically – no responsibility. Not yet anyway but still, as she picked out another dress and discarded the one with the massive cleavage, he was proud. Or happy. Or content. He wasn't sure. For Merlin's sake – he he would have to get this under control – he would have to understand his emotions. Not yet – but soon. He would have to understand.

He approved of the third dress – a decent, modest muggle (of course, of course) dress. Below the knee, no hint of breast. Sleeveless.

And it didn't matter to him that it cost around two hundred Euros. He simply paid. Because she looked pretty. And made him proud.

* * *

"Draco?", she asked, as he came, hand in hand, with with Millie down the stairs. "Millie?"

"Hermione", he stated.

Millie merely raised her eyebrows but said nothing. It had been a heavenly night – sort of – to sleep next to him again. To feel his warm body next to hers. To – sometime during the night – feel his hand wander to her stomach. To fold her fingers with his. It was heaven being woken up by a kiss. And it was heaven being able to be going down to breakfast with him, no fear this time. No fear.

"You will stay here", Hermione stated. "I have strong wards. At the moment", she explained, "you are not able to go out – but nobody is able to come in either."

"I...erm, what?", he asked, seemingly dumbstruck.

"Don't play dumb with me, Draco", she huffed. "I can't let you roam around God knows where just like that. You have to stay."

"But..."

"I don't care. You will explain all this – you will explain why you swapped sides – and so will you, Millicent Bulstrode – but not today. Today, I'll let you two rest. And tomorrow, I'll let you rest. We will talk on Monday. And you'll not leave the house until then", she stated, her commanding tone in full force. "And you can sit the baby tonight", she added.

* * *

He smiled at her. Why was it that she looked more beautiful every time he saw her? Why was it that he had had a rather, well, vivid dream involving her the night before? And the night before? And the night before that? Why did she look so enchanting standing at the corner, heels and a simple muggle (of course) dress, waiting for him.

"Hi Jack", she came towards him and smiled before she kissed him briefly on the lips.

"Hello Hermione", he answered and hugged her quickly. Then – naturally – he took her hand, and carded his fingers through hers. It seemed she enjoyed it, it seemed she wanted the closeness though why – he wasn't sure. There were moments, usually when they met or when they parted, that he didn't know, wasn't sure, why she was drawn to him. Why he was drawn to her, he did know – in clear moments, when he was being honest to himself.

She was exceptionally bright (he had, of course, known that before), she was a witty conversationalist, her eyes were shining when she spoke, and she was so beautiful. Yes – yes. She was beautiful. In his eyes, she was like one of those Renaissance Madonnas in all those churches, definitely not skinny, nicely rounded, curves in all the right places and legs to die for.

And the legs – well, he liked them especially in the heels, especially when they walked through some of the streets, over the cobblestones, of those, there were plenty. He liked them because she had sometimes, after a bit of wine, maybe, or because she wanted to, difficulties walking and she clung to him tighter – her arm around his waist and she needed his arm around her shoulders. He liked her in those heels – really. She needed his protection then, somehow. Or rather, he felt that she wanted, needed, maybe, a man by her side.

Sometimes, like in that moment, when arm in arm, they walked through the ancient streets hand in hand, she looked smugly around. Smugly up at him.

Or maybe he interpreted it wrongly.

But he could pretend, couldn't he? There was nothing wrong with that. Nothing wrong with wanting to be happy for a while.

Was there?

* * *

It was clear that she couldn't really wait much longer – and neither could he. It was clear by the time they sipped their espressos after their meal that he couldn't keep his hands off her – and neither could she. That both of them constantly touched each other and that even Jack wasn't shy – that he caressed her cheek, her lips, even her eyebrows and her foot inched ever closer to his leg, after she had slipped it from her shoe.

But there was a tiny, tiny problem. Letitia was in his flat (he had said so – after she had asked) and he couldn't see her place. Well – if he was a muggle. But the embassy was out as well and she wasn't really willing to get a hotel room with him. That was so impersonal. Impersonal and cold. And their relationship – if she was being honest – was anything but. It had gotten so close so fast – and sometimes, she did wonder how he knew her so well if he wasn't Snape.

But if she was honest – brutally honest – even if he was Snape – a Snape like that, behaving like that, she still wanted to be with him.

He was so kind, so loving, so sweet with her. And yet, protective. She longed to be with him.

But – dilemma. She longed to be with him – and to be honest with him. And honesty included telling him the truth about herself – about her being a witch.

And it was hard – simply because she had never had to tell a muggle that she was a witch. Her parents of course, had heard it together with her – those long years ago. And the rest of her family, not that there was much family – didn't know. Apart from Ron, she had never really had a boyfriend, nor dated – and he was a wizard himself. Could she break the news to him? Could she tell him?

Damn honesty. Damn damn honesty.

She had to tell him – she wanted to. Maybe.

* * *

He saw her squirming in her seat as he paid the bill and knew that it wasn't because of the expensive meal. They were close. Getting even closer. This was a relationship. And she struggled – he suspected – with herself. Telling him she was a witch or not. And if he knew her well enough – she would.

"Hermione?", he asked and gently took her hand again, walking with her towards the Piazza Navona – one of their places.

"Mh?", she looked up at him and smiled. So she had obviously made up her mind. It was clear in her face – and he could read her like a book. Like a book he knew well.

"Something the matter?"

She shook her head, then nodded. "Looking forward to meeting Letitia tomorrow and..."

"And?", he stopped walking and leaned against a wall, pulling her with him and staring in her eyes.

"Jack...", she squirmed again.

He pulled her flush against him and tilted his head. Kissing her thoroughly was really one of his favourite pastimes. She always looked utterly, thoroughly kissed after that as well – beautifully flushed, her lips beautifully swollen and her eyes beautifully glazed over, unfocused.

That was what he did, his long, slender fingers carded in her hair, playing with the curls, her nails scraping over his scalp and his neck as she kissed him back fervently, leaning against a wall in the middle of Rome.

He couldn't help himself – it was his body taking over and he felt like a teenager as he, somehow, pressed his hips closer to hers, letting her feel what she did to him – most of the time they were together, and most nights when he was twisting and turning in his bed. She rolled her lower body against him, and he had to break the kiss – otherwise he would have probably died – happily, that of course but still, being killed by the lack of oxygen wasn't really what he wanted after he had just barely escaped the snake's venom.

Wait – he hadn't. Had he?

"Hermione", he gasped. "In a minute I won't care that we're standing in the streets."

She giggled and nodded. "Do you think Letitia would spend some time away?"

"Away from the flat? Of course she would", he began hesitantly, tracing her lips. "But I don't want her to. What about your place? For how long do you have the babysitter."

He helped – he knew he helped. But – did he want her to tell him?

No.

Yes.

No.

No – that would make things more difficult. He would be an even bigger liar then – and he wasn't sure she deserved this. Did she?

She swallowed hard and looked deeply in his eyes cupping his cheeks in her little hands.

"Jack – I, uhm. I don't know how to tell you this."

__


	21. Truth

**_The usual disclaimers apply_**

**_

* * *

_**

"Jack – I, uhm. I don't know how to tell you this", she stuttered a bit and blushed, stepping away from him – only his hand keeping her from probably running away or – worse – stepping even farther back from his reach.

"What is it, Hermione?", he asked concernedly, making sure that her hand was safely in his. Not letting go. Not letting go. Never...

No. That went a bit too far, didn't it?

"I, uhm...", she stuttered again and stopped.

"Are you scared of me?", he asked, his brow furrowed – for the moment stopping to remember that he had promised himself not to make one of those typical Severus Snape faces.

She shook her head vehemently and he knew he hadn't seen the furrowed brow – the probably dead give away.

Dead.

Oh well.

He would tell her. If she told him. If not – then not. It was all up to her in that moment, really.

She leaned back against him, her cheek against his broad chest, her arms securely around his waist. "I'm not scared of you", she said softly, "I'm merely, erm, confused."

"Confused?", he asked, not understanding at all. Nevertheless, he tightened his hold on her briefly. It was what he did best anyway – Jack Torrance that is – was the master of the perfect hug.

Who would have thought?

"Yes. I don't think I've ever felt like this before."

"Mh?", he hummed, deep, velvety, a rumble in his chest, vibrating – he hoped – against her cheek. And odd – but he still didn't understand. Was she...

No, she wasn't breaking up with him – was she?

"I...", she looked up at him, her eyes, apparently, misty. They definitely looked misty. He looked inquisitively at her and ran his hand up her arm, to her cheek, running a single finger up, then down her cheekbone.

It seemed to him that all the noise, the tourists, the native Romans, the noisy, idiotic, dund...no, stupid teenagers – foreign and native – had faded away when he looked into her eyes again. He could only hear her breathing – far from even but not erratic either.

"Hermione", he whispered and bent down a bit, his nose almost touching hers. "Are you alright?"

In that moment – it seemed – something shifted in her features, in her demeanour, her posture. She had held him before – and she had been molded against him but now, now she almost slumped against him, her entire weight in his arm and he didn't mind one bit. She buried her face entirely in his blue linen shirt, her hands suddenly clutching at it and it seemed a tiny sob was racking through her body.

"Hey", he whispered in her ear. "Hey. Tell me what's wrong."

"I, uhm, I like you so much it hurts."

He breathed a sigh of relief – internally. But then – that wasn't the best start of a talk, was it? What if she was still...

"Are you breaking up with me?", he asked, old insecurities – old? - returning.

She looked up – conviction in her eyes. "Never. That's...that's what I'm trying to say."

"I don't understand", he repeated – was she telling him...really?

"Jack, I've fallen in love with you", she choked. "And I want to be with you."

He smiled, traced her lips with his finger. This was – unbelievable. And it warranted the truth, didn't it? On both sides. On both sides? She had to decide.

Her turn.

Well, not quite. He smiled like an idiot, bent down, his lips grazing her earlobe. "Me too", he breathed in her ear – not knowing whether it was the truth or not.

Jack Torrance certainly thought so.

Severus Snape was unable to fall in love.

And the man in the blue linen shirt and black slacks wasn't sure anymore who he was.

* * *

She tried to smother herself in her pillow – sort of. Since when was she a coward?

So – yes – instead of telling him she was a witch, she had confessed her love.

"Brilliant", she cried into the pillow. It hadn't been wrong. On the contrary. It had been right telling him what she had – and hell, heaven and everything else that was in between, he had even answered.

Answered. He had said he was in love with her too.

In love with her.

Hermione Granger. Considered to be the most brilliant witch of her age. And the man she was in love with didn't even know she was a witch.

The most basic fact in her life – even more basic than the fact that she had a son, brown eyes, brown hair. Ten fingers. Well, maybe not that, but still.

And he didn't know.

"I'm not a coward", she muttered and in her nightgown, barefoot, she tiptoed to her office, past her son's room – he was sleeping peacefully – to get the mobile phone. She couldn't bear it.

* * *

Letitia had been asleep – and he was glad – somehow, somehow he couldn't wipe the grin off his face. Again.

She was in love with him.

Hermione Granger, brilliant witch, adoptive mother, beautiful, stunning woman was in love with him. With him.

With, erm – him?

Which him?

Jack – definitely was in love with Hermione – had fallen hard.

The question however was – what about Severus Snape?

And, as he had walked home (skipped home, rather), took a shower, brushed his teeth and hair, watched Letitia mumble in her sleep (she constantly did it – not that he understood what she was talking about), got to bed himself, got out of it again, drank some water (his intake of grappa had decreased since he lived with the girl), then decided he needed something stronger, found nothing (damn Letitia), got back to bed, tossed, turned, wrapped the covers around himself, pushed them off, kicked them, he decided that really (and he had the voice of – oddly enough – Albus Dumbledore in his head as he thought that) there wasn't that much difference.

But then he thought that there was.

Jack Torrance: Saviour of underage prostitutes, hugging master, major consoler, wine connoisseur, reasonable, friendly, courteous, almost fluent in Italian, smiling, loving kisses, embraces, feeling like a human being, spending him time trying to paint (not very well), trying to write, reading, observing people, visiting museums, knowledgeable in all the bus lines in Rome, missing Hermione when she wasn't with him.

Muggle.

Severus Snape: Potions Master, Spy, Death Eater, Greasy Git of the Dungeons, Bat, Vampire, Puppet on a String, Legilimens, Occlumens, snarky, scowling, sneering. Major point-deducer from Gryffindor House in Hogwarts, annoyed by witty know-it-alls.

Wizard.

Too many difference.

He groaned (and it was a typical Severus Snape sound) and turned once more when the pronto on his nightstand vibrated. He was surprised.

Hermione.

At half past two at night.

* * *

It wasn't the best idea she had ever had. But he needed to know before Jack met him. She had to think of the boy. If little Jack grew attached to big Jack and then he would leave her because she was a witch, he would be heartbroken. So Jack needed to know before he met the little one. Before.

It was honest. It was the right thing to do.

It rang only twice.

Twice? He must have been awake.

"Jack?", she gasped into the phone.

"Hermione?", he sounded worried. "Did something happen?"

"I have to talk to you."

"Now?"

"Yes. Really. It's urgent."

"Okay. Where?"

"I'll be at your place, well, in front of your building in two minutes. Hurry, Jack. Please", she needed to get this over with. And she could apparate after all.

"Alright", he said rapidly and got out of bed already.

* * *

Two minutes? Urgent? The middle of the night?

Gryffindor that felt guilty. Definitely.

He slipped into jeans and threw a t-shirt over his head, looking at Letitia, who still slept (the girl could sleep through a Bombarda) before he took his keys and left the flat – running down the stairs.

And yes – she was already there.

In a nightgown. Barefoot. He smirked inwardly – of course she would tell him now. There was no other explanation apart from apparating. Nobody would ever leave anywhere in Rome without shoes.

And still – she looked like a vision, he thought for a moment. Like an angel – he hair wild, a short, white, lacy, quite old-fashioned nightgown and her legs – again those legs. And barefoot.

He rushed towards her and took her in his arms instantly. "Hermione, what happened?"

"Jack – there's something, really. And I have to tell you. I have to."

The situation was bizarre – the street, a dirty street – only lit by street lamps, no moon above them and the woman clung to him, apparently breathing in his scent and he couldn't help himself, he put his chin on top of her head and helped her stand on his feet – clad in slippers Letitia had bought.

"I'm a witch", she said quietly.

"Excuse me?", he asked – and he never realized he could feel so many things at once. Confusion, affection, happiness, fear. And, she was truly trusting him – Jack.

"I'm a witch. I can do magic", she rasped. "I should have told you sooner – it's who I am. It's why I'm here. There is a magic community in England – the war I told you about, it was a wizards war and we had to fight there and then, after the war, things calmed a bit and I was working at the Ministry of Magic, our government, when my boss told me I could get a job away from home after my best friend disappeared and he offered me the position of ambassador here in Italy, they installed embassies all over Europe and I took little Jack and came here after I broke up with my ex who is a wizard as well. I'm sorry Jack, I'm really sorry I didn't tell you sooner", she ran out of steam after that – and waited – doom looming apparently for his answer.

He, of course, had to think rapidly. "I don't understand", he replied at first. That would give him some time.

"I know it's not quite known – of course not – but I can do magic. I have a wand", she took it from somewhere hidden in that nightgown (where?) and lifted it.

He felt his hand twitch. And his finger longing to feel that magic bit of wood with a magical core. Why? Why?

"A wand", he stated – not asked. And kept his twitching fingers to himself.

"Yes", she whispered. "I meant to tell you tonight because I wanted to be honest...", she was cut off by him as he pulled her in for a kiss. Deep, passionately.

Why he did that? He wasn't sure. He didn't want to hear explanations. He needed to know what he could tell her. Whether or not.

Severus or Jack.

* * *

She stepped away from his embrace slightly. Only a tad.

Her eyes fell on his forearm somehow and her eyes widened for only a moment.

That's why he had accepted her explanation just like that. That's why he had merely kissed her.

There it was.

No doubt now.

Absolutely no doubt.

The damn thing was a dead give away.

She stepped back into his arms – her mind whirring but made up.

She wrapped her arms around his waist and lay her head against his chest.

"I'm really in love with you, Jack", she put an emphasis on his name. Just to test it.

* * *

"I'm in love with you, too, Hermione", he whispered, glad that he didn't have to say anything else.

He never noticed her seeing it.

****


	22. Thoughts

_**The usual disclaimers apply.**_

_**There is one tiny little four letter f-word in it. I don't really have to change the rating because of that, do I?**_

_**

* * *

**_

It was the second sleepless night in a row. Not quite sleepless the first – entirely sans it the second. She had seen the Mark. It wasn't black anymore but looked rather like a scar.

Snape?

Snape with amnesia?

Another Death Eater pretending to look almost like Snape?

And why had it been the first time she had seen it? He had worn short sleeved shirts before. He had covered it with something and the night before – she had surprised him – he had had no time.

But – in that first moment, she had been so sure about it – so sure it was Severus, and now, back in her bed (after a long, deep, lingering kiss from him), she wasn't so sure anymore. What if he (whoever) was someone out to get to her? Or Harry? What if someone knew Jack was Harry?

No – nobody could know.

But if Draco Malfoy was a target – why shouldn't she be?

What if it had all been one big farce – a joke on her – and worse, just to get close to her?

Constant Vigilance.

And she had let her guard down.

She would protect Har...damn, Jack. She would meet 'Jack' and the girl with her son. But she would make damn sure there were tons of protective charms around and on the little one. Damn sure.

And – she would confront him.

Once and for all.

* * *

So – he smirked – she had finally confessed. Finally told him she was a witch. And he – he stopped smirking – had bailed. He hadn't said anything. He should have. Probably. No – he should have.

'Hermione, my sweet, my darling, I'm not Jack Torrrance, I'm Severus Tobias Snape and you were my student. You thought I was dead and here I am now and I just ran into you.'

That would certainly go over well.

'Hermione, I'm not who you think I am.'

'Hermione, I'm not sure who I am but if you give me your wand, I'm sure I could at least send sparks. Or maybe cast a Patronus. If I'm lucky. Maybe it'll be a doe – if you let me try. Maybe an otter. Maybe there won't be a Patronus. But I think there will be. I'm not sure whether I'm Jack Torrance. I'm not sure whether I'm Severus Snape.'

Yes. For sure. And she would run screaming and shouting. Or ratting him out to the Ministry. Or calling Dementors right away. Even though...

She had proclaimed him a hero, hadn't she? When she had tried to find out whether he was Snape.

And somehow, he was more Severus Snape now then he had been then.

Not that that made sense. Not a lot anyway.

He flopped on his bed and he groaned inwardly. It was late, he was tired and he wanted nothing more than to just sleep. Carefully, quietly, he pulled the jeans off – then.

"Bloody damn fucking shit", he shouted and stared down at his arm.

Brilliant – a shower, the make-up was gone and she had apparated. He hadn't even thought about it. She had seen it. Had she seen it?

She had been in his arms – with his arm on her back most of the time. But...damn, Hermione Granger was perceptive. And she had put an emphasis on the name Jack just before she had left.

"Oh brilliant!", he grunted.

"Babbo?", Letitia put her head through the curtain and when she saw him sitting uo in bed, the jeans open but pulled up, she stepped through and rubbed her eyes. She yawned, then sat down next to him. Carefully, she put her head against his shoulder and put her hand on his arm.

"What happened? Why you were shouting?", she asked tiredly.

He closed his eyes for a moment. If Hermione had seen it – and he wouldn't tell her – his chances with her were – zero.

He would have to tell her first thing. Very first thing. No matter what. And he could practice.

"Letitia? Do you trust me?", he asked quietly.

She looked at him, then wrapped her arms around his neck, her legs tucked underneath herself, her head half on his chest, half on his shoulder. She nodded. "Si certo. Of course I do."

"And if I'm not Jack Torrance?"

"Not Jack? You're not Jack. You're Babbo. I know you're hiding something."

"What do you know?"

"You know Hermione. You not just met her. You ran away somewhere", she explained coolly. "Don't matter. You're Babbo. Good person. No gun and you rescued me."

He shook his head. Even that girl had known something?

"Your tattoo, looks like gang. So maybe you ran away from that. I don't care, babbo", she shrugged and snuggled a bit closer, her knees resting against the outer side of his thighs.

A gang? "It was something like a gang, Letitia", he began carefully. "And people back in England think I'm dead."

"Hermione was part of the gang? Or she did fight against you?", Letitia asked.

He sighed and, a reflex, surely, he wrapped her arms around her tightly. "I was in a gang, as you might call it, we called ourselves Death Eaters, when I was very young. That's when I got the tattoo. I didn't want to be in it any longer – and I quit and turned to another gang, called the Order of the Phoenix, and spied for them.", he explained and only then realized that it sounded a bit – well, weird, childish, simplified. "It was like the various Mafia families", he explained further, knowing she would understand that.

"Ah", she nodded. "And then you came to Italy."

"When they thought I was dead, I fled. I couldn't be there anymore", he replied, his voice breaking slightly.

"I understand", she whispered and hugged him tightly. "What's your name?"

"Severus Snape", he replied – his voice not even a whisper.

"Babbo, then", she looked up, smiled and planted a gentle kiss on his stubbly cheek.

* * *

"Babe, are you sure you want to stay here?"

"Of course I don't want to stay here. But do you think the wards are any less than they were yesterday? I got shocked when I tried to get into the garden. You would think she thinks I'm a criminal."

"Nobody but her can get in either", she reasoned as she lay her head gently on his chest, running her hand over her stomach. "But I want to clear this thing up with her."

"Me too", he pressed a kiss on her forehead. "And let's face it – it's probably safest for us to stay here."

"Do you know what Kingsley could still want?"

"I only know what my father wants."

She sighed. "Yes, me too."

He looked deeply into her eyes, and pulled her close to her. "Will you marry me?", he asked into her ear.

"Marry you?", she pushed herself up on her elbows and looked at him.

"Marry me. Here. Rome. Now. Today, if it's possible. Tomorrow if it's not."

"But..."

"Please say yes. And if I have to beg Granger on my knees."

She stared at him, tears pooling in her eyes. "Yes. Yes! A thousand times yes!"

He grabbed her by the upper arms and kissed her deeply. "I love you Chubbs", he mumbled into her mouth.

* * *

"Jack, baby, wake up", Hermione cooed, standing over his cot in the nursery. "We got to meet him. Whoever he is."

"Mummy, ice-cream", he used the new word he had learned a few days before. He rubbed his eyes, a bit tiredly still when she picked him up from his bed and cuddled him for a moment before she kissed his chubby cheek. "Jack meet Jack."

"Yes", Hermione grinned a little painfully, "even though he might be Severus when I'm done with him."

"Sev'rus?", Jack asked, grimacing and pulling faces.

"Yep, we'll see", she muttered, then added in her mind – if he wanted to still see them. Or – if she still wanted to see him.

Did she?

"Baby, what do we do when it's him?"

"Ice-cream!", the little one shouted and it made Hermione laugh. Yes. Ice-cream. No matter what.

* * *

Letitia grimaced when she noticed that her babbo didn't use her make-up to cover up the tattoo. Or the remains of it. So he really wanted to tell Hermione what he had told her the night before. That he was basically in hiding. Odd. If she were in his shoes, she would break the news gentler. She shrugged to herself and cried out for him.

"Babbo, the cerniera...ah, zipper.", she exclaimed. "Help, please!"

"Mh?", he faced her in the lovely dress he had bought her the day before just as he closed the last two buttons on his shirt.

"The dress", she shook her head and turned around. "Please."

He groaned but zipped her up without any further complaints.

* * *

Letitia looked good in the dress – and he knew that she would stand by him. Stay with him. Family?

Family. Even if the Italians were a bit slow when it came to adoptions.

Family.

But why was he scared? It was most likely anyway that Hermione – beautiful woman - wouldn't want to have anything to do with him anymore. But he knew that those kisses shared with her would always be on his mind – would always be a treasured memory.

Where had that thought come from? Again Maybe Severus Snape wanted to continue seeing Hermione Granger. Seeing her – even though he wasn't sure of his feelings.

He groaned again and acting as Jack once again, he pulled Letitia to him, in his embrace. Why? He didn't know. Some human contact, probably. Some reassurance. Jack Torrance needed that.

"Let's go", he grunted. "Get this over with."

She smiled encouragingly at him and punched him lightly in the chest. "She likes you", he emphasised the last word and winked before she pulled him out of the door.

* * *

"Hermione?", Draco asked as she gave her son his breakfast.

"Yes?", she asked, tense – not because of the blonde but because of – well, Jack as she knew him.

"Millie and I would like to get married as soon as possible", he said solemnly, "today, if possible."

"Erm", she was speechless for a moment and stared at him with her mouth and eyes wide open. "Yes, erm, how?"

"As far as I know – and mind you, I'm just a mindless, stupid, ignorant pureblood, Rome has the most churches a single city has in the world", he snapped sarcastically.

She swallowed at his dig. "I know that but it will not be recognized."

"It's a marriage, isn't it?"

She shook her head, staring at him intently. She had clearly underestimated Draco Malfoy – she was absolutely shocked at her lack of judgement of character lately. "It technically is, but I take it you want to marry her to bind yourself to one another. A catholic wedding – and I'm not even sure you could get one on such a short notice, would not be recognized by the Minister or your father for example. And I take it that's what you would like."

He nodded but asked immediately, "Why not?"

"You're not Catholic, are you?"

"Of course not", he replied, half-scandalized.

"It's null and void then", she shrugged. "I'm sorry but that's the case. You need a wizarding wedding."

"And we can't get that here", he hung his head.

Hermione grinned and gave her son who had listened intently, quietly, a bit of banana. "Well, there is a possibility."

"Which is?", he asked tersely.

"As ambassador, I have the right to do it", she grinned at him.

"But you wouldn't marry us, wouldn't bind us", he grimaced.

"I will", she replied quietly. "If you'd like that."

She grinned at his dumbstruck face and lifted Jack in her arms. "Think about it with Millie and let me know when I come back."

"Erm", and a bit more stuttering was all she heard before she left the embassy with Jack in her arms.

* * *

He saw her arriving with the baby in her arms – and oddly enough, the boy still reminded him of someone – even though he wasn't sure who it was. She smiled – no beamed at him. And in that moment, he wasn't sure whether it had been right to left the Mark uncovered. No – she deserved this – the truth – the chance for her to decide whether she wanted to be with him or not.

And by Merlin – he hoped she still wanted it.

She seemingly gripped her son a little tighter and walked briskly towards them. He felt Letitia fidgeting next to him and he had to – had to – put a soothing arm around her shoulders – but when Hermione and her son stood just before them, he had to let go.

Little Jack stretched his little arms towards him and grunted and pointed.

He understood and lifted his arms towards the boy – and he knew she could now easily see the Mark.

He could see her stare at it and his eyes met hers. He tried to put all the things he felt in that moment – confusion, fear, affection, apologizing – in his glance. And it was difficult. More difficult than anything he ever had to do, probably. And it was more difficult than to stand in front of Him.

She held his gaze. "I've seen it last night", she said simply.

__


	23. Confusion

**_The usual disclaimers apply._**

**_

* * *

_**

"I've seen it last night", she said, her heart beating wildly. He would push her away.

But seeing him, with his arm around the girl's waist – she was sure of one thing. Or maybe not. Severus Snape would never put his arms around a girl like that – and yet, the way he protectively looked at her – it reminded her. It looked almost like a scowl. Almost. But it was rather his face, scrunched in concentration.

His eyes were different then they had been – the cold, bottomless, black pits were dark brown and warm. Different. That's why she had not recognized him before. Because the emotionless frigidity was missing.

And she caught herself staring in those eyes. And found that she didn't really care who he was. And wanted to be with him.

But he would have to suffer for a while though. For his deception. For lying in her face. And she would find nice things to do that.

And at the same time still her curiosity.

* * *

He couldn't say anything at first. The baby in his arms, staring at him and snuggling up to him.

"Daddy", he mumbled in his shirt. "Ice-cream!"

"I'm not your daddy", he replied, still looking at Hermione – never keeping his eyes away from hers.

"Jack ice-cream", the little one said again, and trying to wriggle out of his arms.

Letitia – good Letitia. "I take Jack", she winked and before he could do anything – anything at all – she had taken the boy from him and had disappeared into the gelateria.

Hermione seemed to follow them with her eyes but they had positioned themselves smartly and she could see her son all the time – or Letitia made sure that the mother could keep an eye on her son while they picked the flavours of their ice-creams.

"Draco Malfoy's getting married", she stated without looking at him.

"Ah", he said, surprised – he hadn't known the young Malfoy was still running around the countryside – but he never showed it.

"Millicent Bulstrode", she continued to inform him – surprising him more. She could tell him all the things he hadn't realized he had wanted to know. Bulstrode?

Bulstrode and Malfoy? The dunderhead who had forced him to...well – and the half-blood who had defied Him on more than one occasion, being more courageous than any Gryffindor – being as courageous as he had been. That wasn't really a pair he could have ever imagined.

"Bulstrode?", he asked – looking surprised. "Bulstrode and Malfoy? You can't be serious."

"I am", she grinned. "I knew you'd be interested, Ja...Se...Prof", she frowned, "how should I call you?"

He shrugged. "Don't change the subject", he said – his voice nice and gentle. Low. He had to win her back. No – win her over. He wanted to. Oh, how things had changed.

How things had changed.

It was really she who he wanted.

"Hermione...", he began – ready to grovel? No – never that. But ready to...ready to do what exactly?

Life had definitely been simpler without her in it.

His eyes widened at the thought. Did he want it simple again?

Yes – but not without her in it. Clearly.

* * *

"Jack, would you like chocolate? Straciatella?", Letitia cuddled the boy to her chest, a kiss dropped on the soft light brown hair.

"Strat-chella.", he grinned toothily and then suddenly lifted his hand and one of the little plastic spoons that were on the counter zoomed into it. He grinned again and held it up high.

"Come? Uh, how did you...", she looked utterly puzzled while he was still grinning at her. "Can you do that again, Jack?"

Easily, he lifted her hand and another little spoon came flying into his hand. He giggled and give it to Letitia.

"Lettie, not gic", he babbled.

"Come? What did you say?", she asked again, shaking her head – not being able to make a distinction between Italian and English.

"Lettie not gic. Jack gic", he explained.

Clearly, she had not seen clearly. And if she hadn't known that Babbo and Hermione needed at least five minutes alone, she would have left the gelateria and would have told them – immediately. Something was not right with the kid.

He had – for all intents and purposes – just made a little green plastic spoon fly. Directly into his hand.

She shook her head. She would certainly ask Babbo about it. He could certainly explain.

* * *

Suddenly, he lifted his hand – as if he wanted to shake hers. Something was odd. Why would he do that when they had just discussed Millie and Draco?

She frowned and put her little hand in his. He squeezed gently.

"Hermione Granger, if I'm not mistaken. I hope you remember me."

"Erm", she was speechless. "Excuse me?"

"I used to be your Potions Master at Hogwarts, Miss Granger. I'm Severus Snape but everybody calls me Jack these days", he said earnestly and shook her hand – not letting go.

She couldn't help but smile. But if he thought that this would wipe away all those weeks of lies (albeit the most marvellous, wonderful, amazing, brilliant weeks of her life) – he was mistaken.

"So Severus Snape – I had the impression that you were Jack Torrance", she said haughtily and pulled her hand back. "Why?"

"I have to be honest, don't I?"

"You have a choice – if I find you lying to me once again, you can go back to being Jack Torrance or you can become a girl and call yourself Jacqueline Torrance of Jack Nicholson for all I care because then, Severus Snape", she poked her finger in his chest, "I will never want to see you again. If you decide to tell me the truth from now on – and that includes answering every question I have for you – I might give you a chance."

He captured her finger – the one that was still poking him with his hand. "Ask, Miss Granger. I've never known you do anything else."

She smiled and curled her finger – effectively making it impossible for him to let her go. "But you're not forgiven yet – what in the name of Merlin were you thinking?"

He shrugged. "I wasn't, really. I was..."

"I was asking you directly, are you Severus Snape. Are you related to Severus Snape", she began and glared, but never even thought of taking her finger out of his – instead poking him in the chest with her other hand, "I asked you all of that and you lied in my face. Care to explain?"

"Will you stop poking me?", he snapped and captured the entire hand in his other – so they stood, amongst hordes of tourists with both her hands in his, opposite each other – in the middle of the day.

"Explain!", she demanded.

"People think I'm dead, Hermione. I cannot be Severus Snape anymore. Do you know that's going to happen if I am?"

"You don't have the slightest clue that they're building statues for you in England, right? You don't know that Minerva McGonagall named a tower after you and Dumbledore? You don't know what's going on in England because you've been here the entire time. We rebuilt the school, we rebuilt our society – and you had a nice life down here. With that girl – wherever she came from. You owe me a lot of answers", she stood a bit closer and brought her right hand, encased in his left to his chest and beat him a bit – more playful than anything.

He – hating to admit it – paled a bit at what she had said and well, he had not expected the physical closeness.

What had he expected? If he was being honest with himself, he had thought, she would run.

But she wasn't – she stood there and still touched him – even though she knew who he was.

"They wouldn't have done that if I was still alive."

"You are still alive", she argued.

"That's a question of definition."

* * *

Carrying a toddler who carried his own small ice-cream and at the same time trying not to let the three other cones drop was a hard task even for the best of women. And Letitia, as much as she wanted it – wasn't used to pretend to be a mother. But it was fun – apart from the ice-cream cones almost slipping from her hands.

It was no surprise to her that Babbo and Hermione stood close but glared at one another.

"Attenzione!", she exclaimed, followed by a "Tsssi-On-Ah", from little Jack.

The supposedly grown-ups (Hermione was angry, Babbo afraid – Letitia could see that) acted quickly though and took each a cone from her.

"Hope this is okay", she muttered and both of them thanked her. "Erm, come se dice? Jack here made a spoon fly", she whispered, eating a bit of the frozen delicacy.

"He did what?", Hermione asked, her eyes gleaming.

"Spoons, those little ones – used for eating gelato – directly come flying to his hand", she explained, Jack grinningly sitting on her hip, making the most mess while eating and the white, vanilla-y stuff was all over his face already – even in his hear, it seemed.

"He did?", Hermione turned to her Babbo. "He accioed spoons."

"Shout it, Hermione, will you? I can't help you obliviate people", he rolled his eyes.

"What accioed? What obliviate?", Letitia asked – stunned for a moment. There was more to those people – more. And if it hadn't been for her trust for Babbo – she would have been scared when they talked in their form of code. She barely noticed Hermione plucking Jack from her arms and cuddling and kissing him – despite his vanilla covered face.

* * *

It was endearing seeing her kiss the boy after he had done magic for supposedly the first time. There was something about the little one's eyes though. And his grin. Familiar.

"Whose child is it?", he asked, wanting the truth – an eye for an eye, wasn't it? He would be telling her the truth, she would have to tell him.

"My cousin's – I told you", she laughed as she wiped her mouth and pulled a cloth from somewhere – wiping Jack's face.

"And he's a wizard? Coincidence", he muttered – still unsure what to call himself. "He looks familiar."

* * *

She froze for a moment – not long enough for him to notice – for both Jacks, or maybe Jack and Severus to notice – but long enough for a shiver to run down her spine despite the hot temperature and the sun burning mercilessly down on them.

Harry had written that his appearance would still be a blend of his parents – and his family. That he might have looked like that as well in his life before. That only the composition of the features would be mixed differently. And in her eyes – she had completely forgotten to look for the fact that he might look like Lily or James Potter. He was Jack Granger.

But he – Severus, Jack – he could probably see it.

She bit her lip for a moment. If he asked her again – after he had told her more about himself, after he had earned her trust again – she would be honest.

* * *

He needed to talk to her alone – without the child, without Letitia. But he had promised to meet the little tyke (and he was sweet – even though the vanilla ice-cream with the chocolate chips bugged him and the fact that he was more familiar than any family of Hermione could ever be for him) and Letitia was warming to Hermione – especially when his, well, ward, almost-daughter and his – he wasn't sure – Hermione found the first shoe store. Hermione – he had to admit that – wasn't as bad as Letitia but she simply shoved the toddler into his arms and followed the girl in with a grin.

Their talk – their alone talk would have to wait.

Hermione would have questions.

And Letitia would have questions.

So many things he had to think about – and not a moment's peace with the boy who liked to touch his face, liked to push his little finger in his nostrils (and had them instantly removed again), or to poke (he must have gotten that from his adoptive mother) him somewhere.

The little one didn't even stop when Letitia came bursting out out of the shop, asking kindly (he hated when she did those puppy-eyes) for some money for some new shoes she had to have.

He didn't stop poking, prodding, exploring his face when he gave the girl some money and tried to remove the little sticky hands.

"It's enough, Mister Granger", he said in his best teacher voice and not even that helped.

It only earned him a giggle and another "daddy", from him.

Quite disturbing that – and only one of the thousand things he had to think about.

* * *

She would make sure they'd meet and talk alone – it simply wasn't possible with Jack and Letitia around. But why would they want to change their routine anyhow?

She would ask, nicely, if they'd go out again and she was sure he'd say yes.

She had the feeling that all the time they were walking through the masses of tourists, along some of the sights, he wanted to take her hand and as they passed the Colosseum, and as Letitia was pushing Jack in his stroller, she dared to step closer and simply slipped her hand in his.

He didn't look at her – but when she turned her head to see his face, she saw a happy smile. An honest smile, albeit a little one. And she tugged on his hand, make him stop, stood on her tiptoes and pecked him on the cheek.

Nothing was solved – but the intentions of both parties were clear.

Why she wasn't that bugged that he had lied, she wasn't sure.

* * *

She still liked him.

She still liked him.

It was a feeling like nothing he had experienced before. A taste of freedom. Finally.

He wasn't held captive in the role of Jack Torrance any longer. There was no need to pretend in front of her.

And Severus Snape found – that for the first time in over 20 years – he could completely be himself.

But of course he was aware that he would first have to learn how to do exactly that. He would start – that night, in a romantic restaurant. And he would be allowed to bring her to her doorstep. And maybe – just maybe – kiss her there.

* * *

Millie stood, transfixed. "Is that...is that my owl?", she asked, ignoring the wizard's chess between her and Draco.

"It looks like Nightingale", Draco frowned. "Do you think we can let her in?"

She shook her head – more at his question than as an answer as she was already getting up – and yes, the window opened a crack. Enough for the beautiful tawny owl to get in, not enough for them to get out.

And why would they? If everything went according to plan, they'd be married by tomorrow. She would be a Malfoy – the first non-pureblood Malfoy in 246 years. She smirked at the thought. Some – no, most – of Draco's ancestors would be more than rotating, more than spinning in their graves. And every single one of them deserved it.

And those alive – they deserved it even more.

It was time for a little payback. She took less from them than they had taken from her. But revenge – revenge felt good. And nothing could hurt them more than a half-blood in their family. Tainting – ha – their blood.

"I haven't seen her since I came here", she muttered and began to gently stroke the owl who nipped on her finger. "Where have you been, Florence?", she asked the bird – who, oddly enough, listened to both Florence and Nightingale.

"Probably not knowing where you were", Draco came to stand behind Millie, his hands on her waist. "There's a scroll", he pointed at it.

"Oh", Millie exclaimed in surprise and, with one hand, untied it as she continued to touch the soft feathers with her index finger.

She unrolled it and paled.

_Miss Bulstrode,_

_pity. Yes, a beautiful bird. A real pity. _

_I know that my son is with you filth and I know where you are. Don't think you're safe just because the mudblood has placed wards. _

_Take this as a warning. Send my son home and stay away from him. Maybe then nothing will happen to you. _

She swallowed hard, and the owl seemed to seek her touch as well. She looked up at Draco, her eyes big with fear and uncertainty. She wanted to speak – but there were only strangled sounds coming out of her mouth.

"It's okay, Chu...", he began to say when they heard a soft thud. In fear – afraid, very afraid, Millie noticed that she was stroking thin air.

And the owl lay dead on the floor underneath the window sill.

__


	24. Fear

**_The usual disclaimers apply._**

**_

* * *

_**

Hermione dropped her gaze to his lips – she wanted to kiss him good bye – just in front of his and Letitia's flat – she would apparate home with Jack then and later return for their dinner together (yes, he had said yes – and he seemed just as eager as she had been). She really wanted to but he made no move towards her.

Had it changed now?

Of course it had – she had proclaimed him a liar – and in not so many words – not yet worthy of her trust again.

But he was – he had always been. She remembered – in detail – when he had pushed her, Harry (oh Harry) and Ron behind himself when Lupin (oh Remus) had transformed into a werewolf. She had trusted him then – or had she?

Maybe not.

She wasn't sure anymore – time, time and the things she had experienced in the last couple of weeks – had changed her perception of the man.

Had he changed? How far would a man (or a woman for that matter) go if he truly wanted to be someone else?

Harry had done it – he was Jack now – and Severus Snape, he had done it – a bit differently – but he was Jack now as well. Both of them had been in the situation that they wanted to get away. And both of them had.

Harry couldn't explain anymore – but sure as anything – she would ask him why he had done it, why he had become Jack Torrance (and yes, now she understood the reference – but he was far from any character in _Shining_. Was he?).

She could only guess. An educated guess, but a guess nevertheless.

And he didn't seem to have a clue about little Jack either. Her gaze wandered from his lips (those kissable lips – yes) to his arms and the toddler in them. Little Jack had refused to let go of the older Jack and the way he continually called him daddy made her wonder.

No, he looked too much like James and Lily. But maybe, maybe Severus had gone to visit them once or twice or more often and little Jack, a.k.a. Harry, remembered him. And called him daddy because of it.

Or maybe...no, of course he couldn't be Snape's son. That was ridiculous. He looked like a hybrid (and that was what he was) between James and Lily Potter – but she could get an answer out of Snape, Severus Snape about his meeting the little Harry.

Somehow – she would find a way.

He owed her answers. A lot of answers.

She sighed and when she noticed him raising his eyebrows ever so slightly, she smiled and took the boy from him.

"I'll see you later", she said softly, staring intently at him.

"Yes", he replied and she sensed a tiny bit of disappointment. No, she wouldn't kiss him. Even though she really wanted to – the first kiss knowing for sure – well, not quite, almost – that he was her old Potions Master.

Instead, she brushed her hand over his cheek for a split second, followed by her lips. Not a real kiss by any means – but a caress. And she hoped he understood it that way.

They weren't – by any means – out of the woods yet.

"Good bye, Hermione Jean Granger", he whispered and she was struck by lightning for a moment – he really knew her full name.

* * *

She drove him insane. Really. He wanted nothing more than to wrap her in his arms, kiss her oh so kissable lips and he had never known himself – neither Snape nor Torrance – to lose control like this.

"Good bye, Hermione Jean Granger", he whispered and he knew that the use of her full name would be liked.

But her eyes widened and she stiffened with the boy in her arms – he smiled, his Jack-smile and quickly leaned in. It was only a chaste kiss, almost a peck on her lips, nothing more, but it would sustain him.

He was addicted to her. And that was one thing he didn't really want – to be addicted to something, or worse, someone. Horrible thought.

Not when it came to her. Being addicted to her wasn't bad.

And she would break his heart, he just knew it.

He gently put his arm around Letitia's shoulders – after she had said good bye to her and her child – and disappeared into the house. He didn't want her to witness (or he didn't want to witness) apparating.

* * *

She was beyond pale – all colour drained from her face, her hands, probably her feet as well. She shivered violently and slapped Draco's hand away. She didn't want to be touched at the moment, didn't want to be consoled.

It wasn't about the owl – well, it was, but not solely – and she thought she could probably deal with death threats – that hadn't been the first but in fact, the combination of the two, plus the fact that she would probably be directly responsible for the fact that Draco himself was in danger was a horrible thing. And more than Millie could bear at the moment. She crouched on the floor, pressed into a corner, the owl – dead, dead – on the floor next to her.

She rocked herself back and forth, too much, too much.

Images flashing – a foetus. Dead, dead. Her mother. Dead, dead. Her father. Dead, dead. Draco. Slashed. The owl. Dead, dead.

No blood but her tiny face was contorted. She didn't look peaceful. Her wings at an odd angle. Not breathing, not breathing.

She did only hear the blood rushing through her veins and she longed to close her eyes and fall into darkness.

* * *

"Millie! For Merlin's sake, Millie!", he shouted but couldn't get through to her, apparently. There was no reaction from her, only the rocking back and forth, the chin on her knees, the arms wrapped around her legs, her shins, her eyes, dry, staring straight ahead.

"Millie! Chubbs!", he called again and tried, once more, to touch her, but she shrunk away from it.

He bit his lip and slid on the floor across from his fiancée, unable to touch her.

Not that he couldn't understand her reaction – it had been so much in the last couple of months – too much. When she had just recovered from the loss of her parents, the end of the war, the freedom she could enjoy, that she could say out loud that she despised Death Eaters, You-know-who, that she hated the fact that blood was divided, that it matter at all.

Then, the pregnancy. And she had glowed. Until she had to give birth to a dead foetus. Until she found out that it had been his father – the boy's (yes, a boy – his son) grandfather who had caused their loss – her loss.

The threats on her life, on his life. Kingsley's offer to help – under circumstances. Circumstances that led her away and him in the line of fire.

A girl, a woman could only take so much before she broke down.

And it seemed, the owl, the letter was the last straw.

But to see her like this – it broke his heart.

He crawled over to her and tried, once more, once more unsuccessfully, to get her attention. Just because he had heard Hermione Granger coming back. Draco was torn – tell her what had happened, or keep her in the dark.

His natural instinct was to keep it to himself, to themselves. But this was her house, more or less, her home. And she had – albeit a bit weirdly – expressed her concern for them. She knew what was on line for them (not quite, but she had probably a very good idea) and that was why she had kept them inside.

"I'll get you a glass of water, my love", he whispered, hoping she would hear him.

* * *

"Draco?", Hermione frowned, seeing him pale and his hands trembling. "Is Millie okay?"

He shook his head and Hermione guessed that this, whatever it was that would follow, was nothing she wanted her son to witness. She called for Toffee and even though the boy pouted, she handed him over, then lead Draco into the kitchen.

She had to – literally – help him sit down. "Draco?", she asked.

"He's found us", he replied voicelessly. "He knows we're here and he's going to kill her if I don't go back."

Hermione swallowed, her hands wringing in her lap. "Your father?"

He nodded and she could sense his fear.

"But I thought Kingsley..."

"Kingsley is corrupt as the rest of the bloody Ministry", he spat, "if my father pays him enough, does enough, he won't do anything."

"Surely not...", she began again only to be interrupted again.

"The book I gave him two days ago – it was full of the names of dark wizards, full of evil curses. The last of my father's diaries. I delivered all of them – and I delivered the charm to unlock them, to make them visible for all. And what has happened until now? Nothing, Granger, nothing. There are names in there – people who did the most dreadful things, worse than I ever did, you, Snape, Dumbledore, worse probably than most of the Death Eaters. Do you remember my Aunt Bellatrix?", he asked and she was shivering at the mentioning of that particular name, "people her calibre. Torturing for fun. And they're still out there, roaming around because they never wore the stupid silver mask, never had the mark. But they're named and they won't bring them in. Three drops of bloody Veritaserum and they'd be singing like birds, but no – no, he won't do anything because, you know, those people have money, those people have power and Shacklebolt is nothing without them", he erupted, shouting, yelling, screaming.

"Draco...I didn't...I didn't know", she stuttered.

"Of course you didn't know", he replied, resignedly. "And I'll take her away."

"I can keep you safe", she promised. "At least for the time being. I can marry you. That should help a bit."

"That's very arrogant of you to say. You don't know that you can keep us safe", he said quietly, mockingly. "But she's in no condition to get married today. And I don't know whether it's prudent to stay here."

"Just until tomorrow in the morning. I'm meeting someone tonight you might be able to help you – help us."

He frowned. "Who?"

"I can't say – but it would make a difference. Believe me", she smiled and put her hand on his arm. "Just stay and be there for Millie. There are calming draughts in the cabinet in my bathroom. Feel free to take them", she stood up. "Jack will be here with Toffee. Maybe he'll help you as well. You're safe, Draco. No matter what your father says. He can't get in here."

* * *

It was relief when she saw him – a huge relief. But she knew that she shouldn't simply ask him if he'd help Draco, Millie and bring Lucius down. If it was really as horrible as Draco had said, there'd be a lot of danger, also for herself and Jack. And Severus – he would be – oh sweet mother of Merlin – his life would be in danger as well.

"Jack", she kept herself stiff, not wanting him to know she was worried. She didn't dare to touch him – it would probably be her undoing and she had grown out of the constantly crying mess she had been in school (that was how she perceived herself anyway).

"Hermione?", he asked, his eyes shining.

"Lucius Malfoy's on the prowl", she blurted.

"He hasn't been Kissed?", he asked, stepping away ever so slightly.

"He's free, he's roaming around and he's threatening Draco and Millie. They live with me, Jack, they do in the embassy – they turned me into ambassador, though God only knows why, maybe they wanted me out of England because Harry's gone and now they're hiding in the embassy but Malfoy knows where they are and he's threatening them and I'm worried. Severus, I'm so worried."

His eyes widened. If they knew he was alive, he'd be stone, hanged, quartered, crucified and who knows what else. He would be in from two sides – the Ministry and the former Death Eaters. "Don't call me that", he hissed.

"Sorry", she whispered. "Jack, it's really..."

"I didn't know he was still alive", he rasped.

* * *

She stared at him and for the first time ever, she saw him being scared.

__


	25. Ego te absolvo

_**The usual disclaimers apply.**_

_**

* * *

**_

He stared in Hermione's eyes as she, almost greedily, downed her wine. Draco in trouble with his father – of course. Lucius running around freely. Narcissa?

"What about Draco's mother?", he asked quietly.

She sighed. "According to him, she's into muggle drugs now." She had apparently trouble with the adjustment. She wasn't the high society lady anymore. Just a witch. And one without the powers of her sister Bellatrix. Or even her sister Andromeda.

Muggle drugs. How the mighty have fallen. "I see", he simply said. Simple – no. Nothing was simple at the moment.

A part of him wanted to help Draco – the little boy he remembered, the scared, blonde, tiny tyke. Now a grown man, probably – especially since he was with Millicent.

That girl had surprised him. So surprised him. But with him – no wonder that Lucius would threaten them. The only heir with a traitor. He would probably make even quicker work of him than with her.

And they were obviously both quite in trouble. And it was time to talk to Hermione. She stared back at him, knocking back the second glass of wine.

"Tell me more about it, please."

"Mh? Jack, I don't know much else. I know they're in trouble. The wards", she lowered her voice, "are up and I really can control them up to a point – the floos are closed. Right now, neither of them can leave the embassy but I know that he really wants to leave, find some safe place for them..."

"Don't allow them to leave", he replied vigorously. "He won't be safe anywhere."

"And I'm not sure he has his wand", she whispered, leaning over the table closer to him.

"Mh", he grumbled. "You should make sure he has."

"What happened to your wand?", she asked, stupidly somehow.

"And they call you a brilliant witch", he mocked, falling into old patterns, he noticed, "I wouldn't know", he added, trying to be gentler, "I left it behind."

She rolled her eyes, "I know that. What I meant was what happened to you after you left your wand. Damn, Se", she stopped herself when he frowned, "Jack, I wanted to know what you did after you left your wand? How you could leave without it."

He smirked. "Just be honest, Hermione. Just say that you're dying to know what I did in the last three years."

"Alright, you win", she grinned, "tell me."

His smirk grew into a grin and stealthily, he sneaked his hand closer to hers on the table until it reached her fingertips. Then, quickly, he covered her hand when he noticed that she didn't pull away. In fact, when his large hand was over hers, his thumb caressing her skin there, his heart jumped a little. Nothing was lost.

"I got away. I basically apparated as far away as I could."

"You were dead", she interjected.

"Technically, no. I knew something like this would happen. I had so many anti-venoms in my veins that I could have been bitten even by three snakes and I would have still made it out. It was selfish."

"No", she whispered and gripped his hand. "That wasn't selfish. Disappearing was. Pretending to be dead was."

He shrugged. "Maybe. But what would have happened? No matter the outcome, I would have been a wanted man. I have been to Azkaban, Hermione. And death would have been preferable", he explained and pulled a small capsule of something out of his pocket. "My emergency exit", he explained and put it on the table.

* * *

It looked like a pill – a muggle headache pill. Her eyes went wide.

"What is it?", she asked.

"Muggle", he smiled.

"Cyanide", she replied breathlessly. "You can't be serious."

"I won't go back to Azkaban."

She gasped, covering her mouth, then, letting her gut take over, she left her seat, pulled his hand away from underneath his and before he could even look stunned or hurt, she was on the other side of the table, her arms around his neck. She wasn't sure what to say to this and she knew she didn't have to really say anything when she felt him leaning into her touch and, slowly, steadily, pull her on his lap.

Unknown to him – or maybe not – she put the capsule into the pocket of her slacks.

She could, after she had put her head on his chest, hear his heart beat rapidly and only then, Hermione Granger realized how difficult it must be for him to talk about this – to her of all people.

"I'm not the Gryffindor know-it-all anymore", she said suddenly and surprised herself. She wasn't sure where that had come from.

"I, erm, I know", he stuttered slightly and his heart raced even more.

She didn't care about all the people staring at them. She didn't care that he almost looked as if he could be her father. He was her Jack. Her Severus. She would take him in every shape, way or form. And she would make damn sure that he would stay hers. Even if she had to change ever so slightly herself.

* * *

He didn't care about all the people staring at them. He didn't care that she could be his daughter. She was his Hermione and she deserved honesty. From him – she deserved to hear his history.

"Did Potter show you my memories?", he asked, anxiously – hoping he had – to a certain extent. It would be difficult to drag all that up again. He didn't care about telling her about Lily. All of that was in the past. In another life. Literally.

He felt her nodding against his chest and he let out an inaudible sigh of relief. It would make it simpler. He would just have to tell her about the time after he had died.

"I got as far as Strasbourg", he explained softly – his hand, treacherous? - rubbing circles on her back. "And because I knew the battle was coming and that I had to probably get away after that, I had money transferred to an account. A different name."

"Jack Torrance", she whispered.

"No, I was John Smith. Not as imaginative, I suspect."

He felt her chuckle and just continued. "I withdrew the money and until I came here, I kept it with me", he was being honest. What else? Even if something in him screamed not to tell her. Something – which part? He wasn't sure anymore. "I rented a small flat and kept my head down. I got used to living as a muggle. I don't think I was that bad at it – but I'm not sure. I moved around France, a month in Germany but didn't like it there, then, one day I was walking through Nice, I heard some tourists talk about wands and charms. I don't think they were wizards but I took the next train to Italy. And I ended up here. I like it."

"Why did you leave at first? You wouldn't have gone to Azkaban."

"Can you tell me that for sure? I mean, are you sure about that? I would have gone there – at least if Potter had destroyed Him, which he did. I was still the murderer of Albus Dumbledore."

"But you did it because of the curse", she exclaimed, looking into his dark eyes.

"Would that have made a difference?", he asked, and pushed her head against his chest again. "It would have taken months to get through the Wizengamot that I was, more or less, innocent. And Hermione, I am not. I cast the Av...you know which curse. It was my wand, my hand, my will. If I didn't have the will to do it, it would have never worked. I killed him", he whispered – very quietly. "It didn't matter why I did it, whether it was just glorified euthanasia. It wasn't, Hermione, I killed him. Full stop. I killed him..."

"You saved Draco's soul", she argued.

"I saved Draco's soul", he repeated in a mocking tone. Yet, his arms betrayed him and they gripped her tighter. "But what about my soul? What about the war? Even if he had only lived a year – Vo...you-know-who would have found out. And then? Imagine it for a moment. He would have found out, he would have attacked the school with Albus not strong enough – then, what? Potter would not have been ready – the Horcruxes not destroyed. Then? He would have – if we had been lucky – gone back to his bodiless state. It would have been just like before Pettigrew had helped him – a silent threat, something to be very afraid of. But only if Potter had been lucky. And yes, he was loved but nothing could match the love of his mother – the love of any mother for that matter. All of us could have loved him – and believe me, not all of us did – and it would have probably not been enough. Yes, Albus could have helped a bit – but not much.

"But still, Draco's soul was more precious than mine in his opinion. Why? Because I had tortured before? I have never killed before I killed him – did you know that?"

"No", she said quietly. "But..."

"No but, Hermione. There are no buts. He knew. But I was – apparently – stronger than him..."

"You are"

"Stop interrupting, please", his tone was pleading, almost begging. "I will never get it out."

She nodded and kissed his chin. "I'm sorry."

"I am sorry. If I had a choice, one other choice, it would have been different."

"You wouldn't have joined them..."

"What did I say about interrupting?", he asked, teasing her only to a point. She understood the message and remained quiet but her forehead rested against his neck. The stares had died down and neither of them cared. Well, he did but he found it easier to talk when she was close. Odd, that though.

"No, I wouldn't have been a Death Eater. I would have hidden somewhere far away. I would have gone away. But I didn't have that choice then. At least it didn't seem like it. And everything after that was just cause and effect. Cause and effect. Hermione, have you ever thought about that concept?"

She shrugged. "Sort of."

"I joined, I got the damn mark", he showed her his arm and apparently, she was so fascinated that she traced it with her fingertip. It made him feel – accepted. Understood. It wasn't repulsive. It was – kind, compassionate.

"Then I had to work for Albus, because, of course, he was so kind to take me in. I was in his debt. I had to do as he told me. I was part of his plan. I don't think he would have needed me, would have treated me that way, if he had another spy. I was his only option to get inside information. So I had to do it. And I had to listen to him. No, Hermione", he stopped himself, and then grew pensive.

* * *

She looked up. "No Hermione what?"

"I didn't have to listen to him. But I did. I wasn't used to live without someone telling me what do do. And he did just that. He told me what to do. While he was only in his spirit-form, after that. I was there about an hour later after he had killed Cedric Diggory. I had to go. He made me do it and I listened like a dog who is glad to have a master to listen to. And when he told me that Potter was more or less ready and that he would die but that I needed to make my position clear – to Vo...you-know-who and that I had to fool the entire wizarding world, I thought I was prepared for it. Hermione, I wasn't", his voice broke and she wasn't sure what to do. So she simply looked in his eyes and caressed his lips with her fingers.

"I understand", she replied, her voice raw. She wanted to cry but she knew it wouldn't go down well with him. He would probably understand but she didn't want to do it. It was his time. And it seemed – the tightening of his arms told her that – that he knew that.

"I don't know if you do. You've seen a lot and you're still so young. But it broke my heart to have to kill him. I got away, I fled. I don't think I've ever felt so numb in my entire life. I didn't think I would ever feel again."

"I hope you do now", she interrupted. It was enough soul-baring for one day. One evening. And probably even enough for her to bare.

* * *

"I do", he whispered. His voice was raw as well – he was reduced to his feelings. And he had never felt like this. Never, never before. Not even when he had spent his summers and winters and springs and autumns pining for Lily. Never.

"Because you should", she said with conviction.

She was so honest when she looked at him and suddenly, she was kissing him again – her tongue demanding entrance to his mouth and he granted it and he tried to put all the emotions he felt in that kiss. It wasn't easy. Kissing had never been his forte. The, erm, women of easy virtue were never that hot on kissing. He had learned to hug but kiss? Well, she relaxed on his lap and her tongue battled his. And it seemed, she won.

He wanted to deepen the kiss but it was her turn.

His breathing was shallow and uneven when he broke the kiss – or she? - and the waiter – the damn bloke – looked at them disapprovingly. But maybe he was just disapproving because he was unhappy himself. He didn't care at the moment.

"You said Minerva has named a tower after me and Albus?", he asked breathily.

She chuckled, breathing deeply after that and snuggled up to his chest. She didn't care about the people anymore either. And neither about the waiter. Damn bloke.

"We had to rebuilt the castle. Partially. And she decided it would be a cool to add another tower. The Dumblape-Tower. I have no idea how much Scotch she had before she decided that. But yes, she did", she laughed. "And yes, before you ask, there are statues. One on Godric's Hollow, right next to the one of Harry and his parents and one in the first courtyard in Hogwarts, next to Dumbledore"

"I'm a hero", he gasped and when she only nodded, he continued, "bloody damn hell. I don't know. I always followed other people's orders."

"It was bloody damn, hellish brave", she whispered in his ear, causing shivers to run down his spine.

"It wasn't", he argued though, "it was what was expected. I had to pay for what I did before."

"Nobody has to pay that much. You risked your life so many times."

"You make it sound heroic", he whispered back and his hand found its way to her chin, gently tilting her head towards him. He brushed his lips only gently against hers – but apparently it was enough for her to lose control.

* * *

She wanted more than those fantastic kisses. This was Severus Snape and she wanted him in her bed. She wanted him part of her life. She wanted him to have his wand back.

And she wanted him to be with her.

Be with her.

Be with her for a long, long time.

Severus Snape – who would have thought?

There was only one thing she needed to clear up.

"Will you help me with Draco and Millie?"

__


	26. Surprise, Surprise

**_The usual disclaimers apply._**

**_

* * *

_**

"Will you help them?", she repeated and he stiffened, his arms falling limply to his sides.

"Hermione...", he began and slowly, he got the use of his arms back and pushed her none too gently from his lap. "Did you listen to me?"

"I did", she scowled and sat back – but next to him and not across him. "But you can't always live in hiding."

"You will find I can", he snapped and emptied his glass of wine in one go. "There's only one thing I can do to help you."

"Yes?", she asked breathlessly.

"Keep away from Lucius Malfoy."

"Se...shit, Jack, don't you understand?"

"No, to be quite honest, I don't understand. Lucius Malfoy should have been either killed or Kissed. Apparently neither of those things happened and sorry, but then, something's rotten in England. Who's Minister?"

"Kingsley Shacklebolt", Hermione replied voicelessly.

He snorted. "It's a miracle Potter got out of England at all then."

"What's that supposed to mean?", she asked, curiosity spiked.

"Never mind", he shook his head.

"We need you to help us", she begged, knowing that she wouldn't get an answer out of him about the Minister of Magic.

He shrugged – falling into old patterns. No matter, no matter. He didn't have to pretend to be nice to her anymore. Though – that hurt. It hurt to hurt her. But for once in his life, he truly wanted to be selfish. "I can't help you."

"So I should let Draco and Millie go?"

"I already answered that", he explained calmly – too calmly. "But to repeat it for you – no, don't let them go. I think you're capable enough to cast wards to keep him away. And you should probably contact Arthur Weasley. He is probably, with Shacklebolt as Minster, the only not-yet-corrupted person in the Ministry."

"Is that all?", she snarled. "You would just let them fall prey to that sick bastard?"

He fixed her with his gaze. She didn't understand. She just didn't understand. Slowly, he pulled a few banknotes from his pocket and put them on the table. He scratched his neck – glad that she had not yet seen or felt the scars underneath the make-up and the cream and shirts – and, without letting his neutral mask fall, he got up.

"Good bye, Hermione", he said quietly and left the restaurant quickly. She seemed to run after him but he was quicker and didn't look back once.

* * *

She was dumbstruck and more than astonished by his reaction. She felt like someone had slapped her across the face.

She didn't really understand. She had just asked for his help (something he had never really refused – had he? - or was she just building a dream in her head – was she already glorifying him and what he had done in the past? He had been a hero.

But a bastard. He had hated her – well, that was maybe a bit strong. But now – now he had just taken off.

Had told her he was in love with her and now had refused to help her.

And he was even out of her sight now.

She groaned and apparated. She would leave him be for a day or two. Then confront him. She knew where he lived.

She simply refused to let some hurt take over. She had things to think about. And Severus-Jack, well, he just needed to cool off. She hoped. He couldn't just leave – not with Letitia binding him down.

Feeling the tingle of the wards, as she stepped through them, she was glad to realize that they still held and that nothing had happened to them. Nobody had tried to get in or out – except herself.

Her son – the little whirlwind – seemed to be still up and she heard him calling for her. She dumped her purse and shoes in the foyer and rushed upstairs.

She smiled and stepped into his room. She nodded at Draco who had apparently read to Jack, a book and the child in his lap. Hermione was astonished at the sight. Draco who liked children? But after all Millie and he had told her – he had almost been a father. And she knew that he would have been a good one.

Jack for one seemed to trust him explicitly. He smiled at her but his head was comfortably rested against the man's chest and he really seemed to like it in his lap.

"Jack, won't you go to your mother?", Draco asked, bending down a little.

"No, mummy here", he explained.

"Did he make trouble falling asleep? I thought Toffee wanted...", she asked, pulling a chair close to the bed where Draco sat with Jack. She sat down as he answered.

"We were just reading a story and then he will sleep. He didn't want to sleep before he had heard a story."

"It's okay", she nodded. "I don't mind."

"Hermione, Millie..."

"Yes?"

"She's scared."

"I can only imagine", Hermione nodded, trying to sound comforting. "What are your plans?"

Draco shrugged. "She's in bed already."

"Good. Did you find the potions?"

"Yes. I hope you don't mind that I gave her a vial of Dreamless Sleep as well?"

Hermione shook her head and grinned at the yawning baby who fought to keep his eyes open. "Of course not. I'm not taking it anymore."

"I think we were all a bit addicted to it after the war. I know I was", he shrugged once more, then turned to the boy. "Are you tired, Tubby?"

The little one grumbled something and his eyes fell shut again.

Draco chuckled silently. "Would you like a cup of tea? I could make one while you bring little Tubbs to bed?"

"Tubbs?", Hermione asked with raised eyebrows.

Draco laughed. "We decided on it together tonight, didn't we, Tubbs?"

Jack smiled, then yawned. "Tea would be nice", Hermione laughed. "But he's Jack."

"Yes, 'Mione", he still laughed and handed her the baby.

Hermione shook her head – why was he so happy? Well, she would find out.

* * *

He rolled his eyes when he found Letitia, once again, asleep on her bed, a book on her face. That girl read definitely a lot and too late. She never knew when to stop.

Like Hermione.

Why couldn't she understand that he couldn't be discovered? Why couldn't she understand that he didn't want to be Severus Snape anymore? She had just asked and asked and asked.

And he – the idiot that he had been – had even answered. Stupid him. If he had a wand, he would obliviate her.

Gently, he took the book from the girl's face while deep in thought.

He had always thought Hermione capable of feeling, of understanding situations like this. But apparently he had been wrong. Apparently, she needed to protect Draco and Millie first. He would have understood had it been about her little Jack. But no, it wasn't even about the little one. It was about the pure-blood idiot that had cost him a part of his soul and his half-blood mistress. That would never last.

She would put Draco and Millie above him. Above his safety. And he had no idea what that meant. What that said about her feelings. Whether she didn't truly understand the dangers he was in or – worse – if she was willing to risk him – risk his exposure.

Lucius had always known how to interfere. He had always found a way to push his own luck and how to succeed nevertheless. Lucius could push not only luck but boundaries. That man had gotten away with so many things – and of course, with Shacklebolt as Minister, he had to get away again. Hell, they should have made Potter Minister. Then, the gallows would probably have been reinvented. And Malfoy on it.

Poor Narcissa though. But an addiction to muggle drugs seemed fitting and he wondered what Lucius had to say to it.

What Hermione didn't understand was the fact that he, Severus Snape, Jack Torrance, had, a) no wand, and b) would be killed instantly by Lucius Malfoy. And the bastard would even get away with it.

Why couldn't she understand?

Why?

He let himself fall on the floor next to Letitia's bed and put his face in his hands.

And why did it hurt so much?

* * *

"Thanks", she said gently after he had given her a mug of tea. "So I take it I'll marry you tomorrow?"

"Would it change things?", Draco asked suddenly tiredly. It seemed Jack made people happy.

Oh, if Harry would have known...

"Yes. You would be bound together. That makes a lot of difference", she nodded and took a sip. "Your father would have difficulties touching her – or getting close to her because technically, she is a Malfoy then."

"But we would need father's consent for her to become a Malfoy, wouldn't we?"

"Not really, no. You are the heir to the family and as such, you have the possibility to choose your own wife and the person to bear you heirs. Honestly, Draco, don't you ever read? Pure-blood customs? _Laws_?", she mocked.

"I thought it's my father's prerogative, in a way, to decide whether my wife is suitable for the family. If he doesn't agree, my child will not be a Malfoy", he replied, dumbstruck.

"That would be correct. If you were a girl", she smirked. "But there's a loophole in that law, really. Of course you could still be disinherited, though that seems unlikely. But the Malfoy Blood Bond, I take it such a thing exists, would protect her as well. Simply because you have been head of the family already."

"While he was in Azkaban", he replied, realization dawning on him.

"Exactly", she smirked. "Therefore, you have about the same rights your father has. Millicent, as soon as you tie the knot, literally, will be a Malfoy, cannot be hurt in the way that your father probably wants to hurt her, and will be protected."

His eyes were wide. "I didn't know that."

"Let's hope your father doesn't know either", she took his hand over the table. "But we still have to find a solution. This will only be a temporary measure."

"Plan?", he asked, surprised by the touch on his hand.

"I'll talk to Arthur Weasley."

* * *

"Babbo?", Letitia asked sleepily. "You're home early", she added once she had gotten a glimpse on the clock on the wall.

"Yes", he groaned but didn't make a move away from the floor he sat on. He had just realized that she had taken his Emergency Exit. She had taken his poison.

Stupid girl. Thought this was the only capsule he had. But Lucius and helping her against him would mean Azkaban. At least for a while. And he wouldn't do it. He had said it, hadn't he? Loud and clear.

"Did you fight?", the girl asked, pulling him out of his thoughts, and she moved ever so slightly and leaned over, put her chin on top of his shoulder and sighed when he didn't say anything. "So you did fight", she whispered. "Why?"

"Letitia", he began hesitantly, "she asked me to come back, to be Severus Snape again – to help one of those people that I never wanted to see again."

Desperation – that was why his chest was so tight. And the fact that he would probably...

"Letitia, we're leaving Rome."

_**

* * *

**_

_**Let's see if this works: The person with the most original way to kill me for the cliffy will get a dedication for the next chapter.**_


	27. Brain Wrecks

_**The usual disclaimers apply.**_

_**Dedicated to Sam Carter McKay. And yes, that scared me a bit ;)**_

_**

* * *

**_

She slapped him soundly on the back of his head. "Not run away, stupid man", she chided.

"Letitia", he growled.

"No. Babbo, no. You can go. I don't go", she said sternly and repeated the slap.

"Ouch, are you quite done?"

"No, not done", she got up and towered over him, her hands in her hips, glowering at him. "Fights happen."

"You don't understand", he got up as well and stared in her eyes.

"I understand love", she argued fiercely. "And you love Hermione. Don't care if you say no so many times. You just fight. Finito. And don't be codardo."

"Codardo?", he asked, his voice still threatening.

"Pussilanime", she said again, her voice pitching higher and higher. "Don't run away."

He rolled his eyes and wanted to leave her part of the room but she held him back by his arm. She stared him fiercely in his eyes – and slapped him again – across the cheek this time. "You go then. I explain Hermione you are codardo."

He held her by the wrist and left with a huff.

* * *

She would never leave this flat. And she wouldn't allow him to go either. She rushed towards the door and with her tiny frame, she stood in front of it. She blocked the way and glared. She pursed her lips and silently pointed at his bed.

"Drink a grappa and go to sleep."

She knew he was tempted to push her aside but Babbo wasn't a violent man. He wouldn't dare to hit her. She smirked evilly (yes, he wasn't the only one who could do that) and turned the key in the lock, then, with a raised eyebrow, she pushed it inside her shirt. He would never dare to touch her there. She quickly grabbed her own key from the small table near the door and pushed it next to the other one. She would have to put a bra on and then the keys would be safe from him. And he wouldn't leave.

"Go to bed", she commanded and went to her own bed, closing the curtain with an air of a woman at least twenty years older.

* * *

He went to sleep – he tried at least and so many things were going through his head.

Hermione and her swollen lips just after he had kissed her. Hermione in his lap, consoling him, listening to him. Hermione. Her and her alone.

Well, not quite. A bit of Draco and Millicent. All three of them, actually.

How old were they now? 21, 22. And so many things they had already experienced. Maybe for once, they deserved some peace.

He would have to think about it. He would take some time – he would wait a few days to see her but when he was falling asleep, a rather brilliant plan (even if he said so himself) was forming in his head.

* * *

Hermione smiled at Draco and his fiancée. Millie wore one of her pencil skirts – Draco black robes. All three of them had dark circles around their eyes – and yet, all three of them seemed at least slightly happy – even, no, especially Millie.

They had explained – well, Hermione had – the effects of the Blood Bond. They would, hence the muggle saying, tie the knot, they would kiss, they would be bound and since Draco was at least partially head of the Malfoy family, she could not be hexed by another member – at least not hurt by those hexes. She could be beaten – physically by Lucius – but not killed by an Avada. It would simply not work within the family.

Hermione had tried to find out the origins of said blood bonds and only a few, ancient pure-blood families had still had them – the Blacks, the Malfoys, the Lestranges. A few others. She wasn't sure about the Weasleys. And she didn't want to know.

Anything above a slight stinging hex was ineffective.

Millie had understood and the moment Hermione had stopped talking, she had darted from the room – had pulled Draco with her and had simply told Hermione to be ready to get them married.

And it was nothing like a regular wedding – not even close.

Jack was playing with legos on the floor, Toffee seemed to clean the foyer (after all, there was a reception of sorts coming up) and Hermione wore jeans (she had offered to get changed but neither Draco nor Millicent would hear of it).

"Draco", she continued in the ceremony (hoping she did it right), take this piece of cloth", she said softly, handing him an off-white cotton bit – looking, Draco would say later – like a handkerchief. "Millie, take this piece of cloth", she repeated and the young woman took it smilingly.

"Now, tie those two together", she grinned as the two used all four hands and tied a very tight knot, pulling at it, making it stronger.

"Good", she continued, lifted her wand and as those about to get wed each held a corner of the tied cloth together, she pressed her wand to it and chanted softly in Latin. The words were simple enough and she had memorized them the night before. It was truly no trouble and probably any wizard could do it – and yet, only those ceremonies conducted by a certified witch or wizard (such as she was) were accepted truly by the Ministry. The rest who just got bonded, or married without such a certified witch or wizard – well, just as it was in the muggle world – stumbled upon problems with all the legal things. Even though sort of legally, they belonged to each others families.

Hermione – when she had read up on all that had to admit to herself that she was, for the first time, very confused herself.

But it didn't matter in this instance anyway – Draco and Millie – at this moment that she waved her wand over them for the first and last time, were legally bound, married and part of each other's families. Millie was a Malfoy just as Draco was a Bulstrode.

She grinned as a blood-red bond wrapped around both their hands, and, after only a moment, disappeared again.

"You may now kiss the bride", she laughed at Draco – who reacted immediately and had pulled his new wife towards him and into a kiss.

* * *

"For heaven's sake, Letitia", he groaned as she poked him awake.

"Are you better this morning?", she asked grinningly, sitting on the edge of his bed.

He rolled his eyes but didn't answer.

"Won't run away?", she asked again. "You promise not to leave me alone."

"I won't", he grumbled. "If I go, you'll come with me."

"I not want to go", she said sternly. "So you will not go?"

He groaned and pushed himself up on his elbows. He hated to be interrogated first thing in the morning. "Letitia, what time is it?"

"Around 6", she grinned. "Just want to know whether you are still there."

"You took the keys", he retorted.

"Window", she dead panned and smirked.

He pulled a face. "And you woke me for that at 6 in the morning?"

"Have to go to school. You said you'd go to see about adoption again", she shrugged. "But do understand if you not want to adopt me anymore."

"Say, Letitia, has your English actually deteriorated?", he asked curiously. Usually, she spoke with an accent but thanks to his tutoring without so many grammatical mistakes.

She shrugged again. "Don't matter."

"It does matter, my girl. Because I still want to adopt you and I will not accept anything but decent English", he noticed that she feared she had gone too far the night before. And she probably had. But after a night's sleep – and a plan – things had gotten into perspective.

Yes, Hermione hadn't understood. But he was a wizard after all. He had ways. Still. He would need Letitia's help – and he would have to take a bit of time.

And he would surprise Hermione.

Because he would help. Just not in the way she suspected him to.

* * *

She missed him. Seeing Draco hold on tightly to his wife, she realized that she had overreacted. A tiny bit at least.

She had left the two newlyweds to it and had taken Jack to his room. While he took a nap, she sat cross-legged on the floor and tried to think a bit further.

Her and him – kissing viciously in a dark street. She remembered that. Nobody knew her, nobody knew him.

Now, if she forced him to help – if she forced him to come out of hiding. What then?

He would be taken to England for questioning. Probably even being charged with faking his own death (she would have to read up on that...why hadn't she done it before?). Even if he got out of that without having to spend time in Azkaban, he would be there, she would be here. The press would have a field day. They would never be left alone.

And that would probably only be the beginning. Two sides would want revenge on him probably. There were apparently still Death Eaters – and if he wasn't protected properly (and he would never allow that), he would be in for it. They would come for him.

And him and her kissing viciously in a dark street – those days would be over, no matter what.

But maybe she painted it all too black. Maybe he would be celebrated as the hero he was.

And the way he looked now, all the witches would be fawning over him.

And him and her kissing viciously in a dark street – those days would be over, no matter what.

No, he was probably right in not wanting to come out of hiding, as hard as it was to admit this.

She would give him a little time, then she would apologize. Or something like this. She wouldn't ask for his help. But he had to understand that she wanted to help the two new Malfoys after all.

* * *

He wrecked his brain. There was no way he could go through with his plan without help. And how he would get it, he wasn't sure yet.

He would find a way. He always did.

__


	28. The Interlude with Paolo

_**The usual disclaimers apply.**_

_**

* * *

**_

It was a week – a devastatingly long week. Letitia was the only one she had spoken to. Letitia had told her that Jack was heart-broken (was he?) and that he missed her but that the girl thought both of them needed some time off from each other.

Hermione – reluctantly – agreed.

The week, otherwise, was quiet.

Jack learned a dozen more words or so and he walked a lot around the embassy.

Draco and Millie barely came out of their rooms and she thought that maybe, there was a little Malfoy on the way soon. Maybe. Or maybe they were just talking. But she doubted that.

But at least there were no news of either the Minister of Lucius Malfoy. Those were the good news

The bad news: she missed Jack, or Severus, a great deal. She missed talking to him, holding his hand, kissing him, seeing him, looking in his eyes. She missed touching him. No – she missed him – the whole package. Fullstop.

But at least Letitia had promised that they would meet soon again. Apparently, the girl knew of a plan of his. An rather elaborate plan, apparently.

Apparently – he still couldn't stop himself from caring for others. And that thought alone made her smile.

And obviously, he cared for her. That was what Letitia had said.

* * *

He had been shivering all over but nobody had paid him any mind. And why should they? He was dressed as a muggle, he had the air of a muggle. He carried himself like a wizard.

And he had absolutely no trouble changing Euro in wizarding money. Italian wizarding money. No Galleons. Ducattas.

And he had absolutely no trouble requiring a wand. Ash and – who would have thought? - phoenix feather. Ash? Oh well. Holding the wand had felt like coming home. Like touching something he hadn't touched in a long time. Like eating his favourite food, smelling his favourite smell. Like breathing for the first time in years. It had felt like he belonged again.

And still, he never stopped to wonder about those feelings. On the contrary, he hurried on through Vicolo Giochi. And he didn't stop to marvel at anything. He didn't stop to think.

Then, it got easier.

He bought a cauldron.

He bought ingredients.

He didn't tell Letitia at first. He feared her reaction. The reaction to the fact that he wasn't merely part of a gang – but a wizarding gang. That he had tortured – that he hadn't interfered with muggles being murdered. Well, at least not in the beginning. That he was not the nice babbo she knew.

He kept what he was doing secret. He kept the wand in his dresser underneath the old muggle shirts and trousers he had brought from France. Letitia wouldn't ever touch them.

Oh – and brewing. A cauldron. A standard size two pewter cauldron. He caressed it like he would caress Hermione had she been there. Potions. Once more to make a potion.

And no, he didn't need any kind of instruction. He knew this by heart. He knew how to make it.

Only – he knew, when the time for actual brewing would come, he would have to inform Letitia what he was – what he was doing.

But he still had a while. The cauldron was in his dresser as well.

And he knew perfectly how to disillusion things. He knew how to make things invisible for her.

But the wand – the cauldron. How he had ever gone without them he didn't know.

* * *

Two weeks. And he hadn't even telephoned.

He had told Letitia to call. And Letitia had told her – once again – that he missed her and that he would be seeing her in two weeks time.

Two more weeks. Why so long? And was he still mad? Was he still mad at her? The way Letitia explained, he wasn't. He was just gone for most parts of the day and when he was there, he seemed almost absent – deep in thought.

Oddly enough though, Letitia didn't care. The girl had said that he hugged her more often than ever before, that he had made it his custom to talk to her for an hour or two before bedtime, that he kissed her on top of her head every night and every morning.

And that – only that – gave Hermione hope.

Yes, she missed him even more. And with the threat of Lucius and the Ministry quite far away at the moment (she felt like she was living in a bubble – it was quiet – probably too quiet – and she didn't have any work to do), she asked herself more often than not how she could have been so stupid to ask him so many things when now, that all was quiet, she couldn't even spend time with him.

Christ, Merlin, God and all other deities, she missed him.

* * *

It was almost done. And he needed to tell her. But not just yet.

He told her to tell Hermione that he would help. Not in the way she expected or wished. But that he would see her soon. In one way or another.

Only that neither Letitia nor Hermione would probably understand the 'one way or another'.

But Severus Snape (and yes, he was Severus Snape when he had a wand in his hand and a cauldron to attend to) knew what he was doing.

And she smirked at the thought.

* * *

Paolo Berlusconi (and he was in no way, shape or form related to the Silvio - oh dio mio, of course not!) was a waiter. Technically, he wasn't a waiter. Technically, he had been a professor at La Sapienza for Roman History. He had stopped when his wife – he had married young, at 22 – had cheated with him with one of his colleagues who had already stolen part of a paper he had been writing at the time – being a professor and had begun waiting on people. He lived a solitary life. He had no real friends apart from Giuseppe who worked with him at Alfredo's. He lived amongst his books in his flat.

And his flat was full of books. He had bottom-to-ceiling bookshelves. Books even he had published, other tomes about his favourite subject, Diocletian's period. But not only that. Seven different editions of Dante's La Divina Commedia. Three of Machiavelli's Il Principe. The rest of the walls were plastered with prints of Botticelli's most famous pieces of art – the Venus, the Primavera, one or two Madonnas. A Michaelangelo or two. A daVinci or two.

Paolo Berlusconi loved his Italian heritage.

Paolo Berlusconi was Italian through and through – and yet – he was lonely and he wasn't one of those types that went out at night to all the hotspots. He hadn't been with a woman since his wife had left with his colleague. And he had loved Barbara. More than anything he had loved her. And yet, she had left.

No wonder, he was grumpy. No wonder he didn't go out expect for work.

He didn't believe in anything but mere science. He believed in reading ancient texts – he believed in the power of the word.

And yet – he believed in God. He never doubted Darwin for one moment – but God – God was one of the stables in his life. God was the one entity he could trust in all the time. God had a way for him.

Paolo went to mess every Sunday. Paolo believed in lighting a candle for his late mother and father every time he went to church. Paolo had loved his parents. And had lost them.

Paolo had loved Barbara. And had lost her.

He was alone.

At work, Paolo was grumpy. He despised the idiotic tourists that he had to serve who didn't know the difference between a simply Amatriciana and an Arrabiata. He despised that his jacket was white and that he had to carry those special chairs for children. That the customers in Alfredo's didn't know that the house wine was a cheap wine that everyone could buy at the Despar around the corner for 2 Euros. Paolo despised his colleagues apart from Giuseppe – the man with the four children and the pregnant wife.

And yet – in his own way, Paolo was happy with his life. Eight hours of work every day and the rest he could spend reading and maybe taking a walk along the Tiber. He never dared to venture anywhere that there were ancient Roman things. Well – as much as he could avoid it.

La Sapienza had been his passion. He had loved his work. And then – he had to quite. He simply had to.

He couldn't bear the humiliation.

That was the only thing Paolo Berlusconi couldn't deal with: humiliation.

Paolo's neighbour – a dark foreigner – sometimes stopped to talk to him. Not often but Paolo knew that he was just as grumpy as himself – except when he was with his daughter. He had never really learned the name of the foreigner – Jack something or other.

Luckily – Paolo never knew that his neighbour was Severus Snape. And a wizard.

__


	29. A Wizard A Potion

_**The usual disclaimers apply. **_

_**

* * *

**_

By the beginning of the fourth week, he was ready. In more than one aspect. In fact, he was ready in all aspects.

He had a little fire burning in the sink (nothing else was fire-proof in this flat – he would certainly have to add finding a new, bigger flat on the list of things he had to consider. And with Letitia living with him...well, it wasn't really a question, was it?) and a cauldron on it.

He breathed deeply. It smelled like a potion, it looked like a potion. He was brewing. For the first time in years, he was stirring in a bubbling liquid.

If he had been any other kind of person – which of course, he wasn't – he was still a blend between Severus Snape and Jack Torrance – he might have misty eyes over that. As a matter of fact, he didn't. He was concentrating so hard, he had little lines on his forehead (in addition to the deeper frowning lines he seemed to have always had) and breathed once, twice deeply before adding the lacewing flies.

He could rest for a moment after that. It would have to simmer for a while, then he could add the final ingredient. One that he had gotten through not so much pain to acquiring it.

He bit his lip in anticipation. He could call Hermione again. He could see her again.

How he longed to be with her again. Just to talk. There were so many questions he had that he could finally ask – and with the potion finished – he could offer her something. He could promise – once more – to protect her. And her son. He wouldn't have to be Severus Snape or Jack Torrance. Or he could be both of them.

* * *

"So good of you to come", Hermione smiled at Arthur Weasley.

"I'm sorry it took me so long", he smiled benevolently back at her and took a seat at the café.

She shrugged. "It doesn't matter. I can't lift the wards on the embassy."

"You mentioned something like this. Why?"

"Draco Malfoy is there. With his wife. And apparently", she looked around furtively but it was a muggle café, a muggle area, "he's from the run from his father."

Arthur Weasley frowned. "I can imagine. There's been a lot of talk that he's not as insane as he pretends to be."

"Apparently not. Draco came to the embassy about five weeks or so ago and bled quite heavily."

"I gather Kingsley Shacklebolt's involved in this?"

She stared at him in disbelief. "I beg your pardon?"

He chuckled. "Kingsley has gone a bit, well...over the top with his quest to find dark wizards."

"Huh?", she didn't understand.

He smiled at her. "Nothing's enough for him. He lets someone observe them, lets others find so much evidence that it's not just enough for Azkaban but for the Kiss. Immediately."

"You cannot be serious...", she gaped.

"I'm afraid I am. I don't know if you've heard the latest statistics, but since he became Minister, Hermione, 57 people have been Kissed. That's more than between Fudge, Scrimgeour and the three Ministers before them."

Her eyes widened but Arthur Weasley continued. "He's so blind in his zeal that he doesn't see, the way I see it, that he hurts a lot of people by letting those who are really guilty, like Lucius Malfoy, roam around freely. I'm sure he knows that Malfoy is trying to gather followers again."

"How do you...", she frowned.

"Most of it are rumours but Percy's still in there somewhere in that system, knowing things, talking about them", he explained. "But that doesn't explain why you're so interested. I didn't think you liked Draco."

"I didn't", she shook her head, "but it's all so long ago. We grew up, we had to."

"And why am I here now?", he asked interestedly.

She looked up, determination written all over her face. "I don't want them in danger anymore. I want Lucius Malfoy out of the way", she hissed. "And I don't really care if he gets Kissed or not."

Arthur Weasley raised his eyebrows. "I understand that. But even Ron said that there is nothing they could do apparently. The last time he allegedly hurt his son, and I take it that after that, he came to you, because he hasn't been seen anywhere in Britain, he was apparently hurt a simple knife. And since there was no evidence of wand-use – nobody could really say who it was. Lucius is not dumb, Hermione. He knows what he can do and what he can't."

"But Millie's baby...", Hermione exclaimed.

"Millie?"

"Draco's wife. Millicent Bulstrode."

"He's married to Millicent Bulstrode?", Arthur asked, the surprise written plainly all over his face.

"Yes", she nodded viciously. "Shacklebolt send her here – apparently – to protect her. But I'm not so sure about this anymore."

"Hermione", he began pensively, "sometimes being on the light side – well, you can be too light. If you catch my meaning."

* * *

"Babbo!", Letitia shouted and banged the door close. "Is fire in the uh...", she gestured wildly towards the sink.

"Letitia", he hadn't expected her so soon and the potion was simmering mildly as he was just adjusting the flame with his wand. "There are a few things I have to tell you."

She shook her head wildly. "Put out fire!", she screeched.

"No, no, I've got it under control", he said gently and moved in front of her and put both her hands on her upper arms to stop her from flailing wildly around.

"Why fire?", she asked again, her eyes wide and now on the wand that he had just put into his pocket.

"Letitia, I need you to listen to me and I know that it will be hard to understand but I know that you're an open-minded girl and smart. You will understand, okay?"

She nodded dumbly and looked at him, her eyes still wide open.

"The gang I was a part of, remember when I told you?", he began and she nodded. He moved her to their table and sat her down in the chair. "The gang wasn't simply a gang. We, uhm, well, Letitia, there's no easy way to say this, and it will be difficult to grasp, but I'm a wizard", he said rushed. "A wizard. That", he pulled the wand from his pocket, "is my wand."

"I...madonna mia", she gasped.

"I didn't have one before because I left the wizarding world in Britain because of that war that I told you about. Because they think I'm dead. The witches and wizards in Britain, as in Italy, live undercover. Nobody knows about us, really."

"You a wizard", she nodded. "I don't believe you", she then added resolutely.

Severus sighed and twirled his new wand – how lovely it was – between his fingers before he produced a single white rose from it.

"Everybody can do it. Had it in your sleeve", she muttered disbelievingly before she noticed that was wearing short sleeves. She still shook his her head and raised her eyebrows mockingly. "Certo", she mocked again.

"Alright, alright", he pointed the wand at himself and suddenly had bright green hair.

She swallowed – seemed quite shocked for a moment.

"Now", he continued, his tone more severe than it was before, "believe me?"

Letitia bit her lower lip, worried it with her teeth before he slowly leaned forward and pulled it gently from her lip – smiling slightly.

"Jack – Jack is then wizard as well", she gasped, remembering.

"Jack? Hermione's Jack?"

She nodded. "I told you. In gelateria. Little Jack wanted spoons for the ice-cream and they were flying through the room to him."

He nodded. He had quite forgotten about the little tyke and his accidental magic. "Yes. Yes, Jack is a wizard, too."

"And Hermione?"

"Hermione, too."

She nodded again and he felt he needed to do something. He brought his hands up to her shoulders and wanted to pull her close in his embrace but she shook him off and stood up rapidly. She breathed deeply and looked into his eyes.

"Need to...", she whispered and stormed out of their flat.

He stared after her in disbelief. "That's gone down well", he said to himself and put his face in his hands.

* * *

"Sorry, Arthur", she said apologetically as her mobile in her purse began to ring.

"Oh, it's one of those muggle phones!", he exclaimed and Hermione grinned.

"Hello?"

"Are you witch?", someone gasped into the phone.

"Letitia?"

"Yes, yes, Letitia. Are you witch?", she cried into the phone – and Hermione was sure that Arthur had heard it as well as he smiled at her.

"Yes, I am", she replied calmly, "did Jack tell you?"

"Jack, Severus, Babbo, yes", she panted.

"Oh dear. Where are you?", Hermione asked concernedly. It was no good if an out-of-sorts teenage girl ran around Rome shouting about someone being a witch.

"Piazza Nazionale. McDonald's", she replied shakily.

"Stay there. I'm coming", she answered, glad that Arthur had been about to leave anyway.

She hung up and shrugged at Arthur. "She's my...well, I don't know what he is, but we were seeing each other and she's his ward. Jack did some accidental magic the other day when she was around and so..."

He grinned. "Seeing someone?"

She rolled her eyes and shook the man's hand. "Yes. Tell all the others I said hello."

* * *

After a few minutes of pacing,after he had finished the potion, he picked up his pronto. Stupid girl for rushing out like that. She could be anywhere.

"Letitia!", he bellowed into the phone after she had picked up with her usual 'pronto'.

"Yes?", she snarled back.

"Where the hell are you?"

"Nowhere", she said obstinately.

"Tell me now", he threatened and apparently his old teacher voice still worked.

"McDonalds."

"Which?", he asked, knowing the teenager loved the greasy, unhealthy food there.

"Piazza Nazionale", she whispered but he understood.

"Don't move. I'm coming", he hung up and looked with contempt at the potion before he decided to...well, take it with him.

Apparating. He hadn't done it in a long time. But he had no doubt he would enjoy it. And the Metro-stop below the Piazza Nazionale would give him enough quietness to simply appear without anyone noticing. Good thing he had explored Rome through muggle eyes.

* * *

Letitia grinned behind her burger. Wizard. Witch. Match made in heaven. And by running away and by getting Hermione there – a public place, a very public place (where they weren't able to make a scene), she was sure she could really reconcile the two of them.

Not that she wasn't shocked about the revelation – about the fact that her guardian (oh yes, she had managed that – he was officially her guardian now – and would probably become her adoptive father soon – well, as soon as the Roman authorities were through with the case – and that could take years and years and years) was a wizard. But if she was being honest to herself – she hadn't quite grasped the concept yet. She would have to ask Hermione about it. The woman could possibly explain it better.

After – only after – she had gotten the two of them back together.

She picked a last chip up and chewed on it slowly – thank God Babbo gave her an allowance – when she saw Hermione storm into the fast food restaurant.

"Ciao!", Letitia cried and waved.

"Letitia!", Hermione breathed and hugged the girl. "Did you run away from Jack?"

Letitia shrugged. Sort of, right? "Yes", she answered. "He had a little pot on a fire in the, erm, come si dice? - erm, sink? And I told him to put it out and he told me he is a wizard."

"He had a pot on a fire?", Hermione asked, shocked.

"Yes!", she nodded.

* * *

He was brewing again? He was making a potion? Brewing? No.

No.

"He told you he was a wizard?", she asked, voicelessly.

"Yes, told me and showed me bachetta magica", Letitia nodded.

"Ba...what?", Hermione asked. "A wand? He has a wand?"

"Wooden stick. Made his hair green", Letitia nodded.

A wand. A potion. Oh sweet mercy of Merlin. Hermione felt like choking. So he was coming back? What was he brewing?

Was he willing to help her now? Well, help Draco? Was he?

"It's nice to hear such an interesting conversation", they heard a soft voice behind them.

_**

* * *

**_

_**Ha – you have to continue reading to find out.**_

_**Please leave a review to tell me whether you enjoyed this. **_


	30. Apparearing

_**The usual disclaimers apply**_

_**

* * *

**_

"It's nice to hear such an interesting conversation", he said.

Hermione spun around and together with her, Letitia, whose eyes was wide as saucers.

"Paolo?", she gasped, wrinkling her brow and Hermione was completely lost on who that person was. She had never in her life seen him before.

"Paolo?", Letitia repeated and said person raised an eyebrow and grinned a rather boyish grin.

"Quite", the man replied and she recognized that voice – now – now – she would recognize it anywhere.

"Polyjuice?", she asked, stunned, surprised.

"Quite right, Miss Granger", Paolo – or Jack – or Severus smiled. It wasn't his smile. It was the smile of a strange person.

"Babbo?", Letitia didn't seem to understand anything. "Wha...?"

"You shouldn't – we shouldn't – talk about this here. The degree – I'm sure it's valid in Italy as well."

"It is", Hermione nodded. "Who was it?", she asked, pointing at him.

"Paolo", Letitia answered, pale – growing ever more pale. "You're Paolo. With Babbo's voice."

He rolled his eyes and, despite his strange body, he sat down and hugged the girl to his chest, whispering in her ear, whispering something Hermione couldn't hear. She just looked at the pair – stunned. It was like him, like Severus Snape, to come up with a thing like Polyjuice Potion. Be someone else to help, to protect her. And in the end (with a blind Minister, so blinded by the light that he would probably have him Kissed), he would protect himself. Self-preservation and the preservation of others. It was probably a good plan.

Probably. But he was there now – and that was what counted. And she hoped, she truly hoped she could see him in his own body. And maybe a hug. Not as long a hug as he was giving the girl. Just a hug.

How she had missed that man.

* * *

"Letitia, I know you're not really comfortable at the moment. The pot you saw on the fire in the kitchen was full of something called Polyjuice Potion. It means that if I add a hair or fingernail from any person, I will look like that person for an hour tops. Not longer. Approximately in 50 minutes, I'll look like your Babbo again, okay? But I need to...", he whispered in her ear.

Letitia leaned over, still pale. He was putting her through a lot, he knew, but she was a smart girl, much smarter than she appeared to be at first, and he would have to give her a chance to answer.

"You have to look like someone else so nobody knows it's you because you will be in danger", she whispered back.

He looked at her, with the brown eyes of Paolo's and smiled the neighbour's smile. "Exactly, my girl", he whispered and wrapped her a little tighter in his arms. "You're my smart girl."

She pushed slightly away from him and he knew she was stunned by his words.

"Does Plyjuices Pushin make you take on the character of the person too?", she asked suspiciously.

"No", he grinned again and shook his head. "It's me, Letitia. But I was...I should...", he began to stutter – a concept completely foreign to him. He hadn't stuttered in about 30 years – maybe longer. And that girl, this little, tiny, long-haired, soon-to-be-16-year-old girl, made him do it. Because he couldn't tell her that she meant a lot to him. That she had taught him things – things he wouldn't have learned.

He cleared his throat, then began anew, "I should have told you sooner", he said – his voice even more a whisper than before. "I, erm, for a long time, for a while, for a very long time, I didn't want to be a wizard anymore. I wanted to leave that life behind..."

"But Hermione – you're doing this for her", she said wisely.

He nodded dumbly. She had, in one sentence, wrapped it all up, even if he hadn't been able to admit it to himself before. Yes, he was doing that for Hermione.

He had given up his live as a muggle – the secure life – to help her. Because she had asked him. Forgotten were his selfish advances. Forgotten was the fact that he wanted to think about himself just for once.

Maybe – maybe – it just wasn't in him. Maybe, just maybe, mind, he didn't want to only think about, of, himself all the time.

And yes, well, why hadn't he taken Letitia in if that wasn't the case?

And then – his decision to be a wizard again, no matter under which name or which outward appearance, that was solely based on her. Her, the woman sitting and pretending to not even trying to listen – even though she probably did.

How had it come to this? That was a puzzle for another day – was it solely because he couldn't let her down? Or was it, subconsciously, because he didn't want to live like a muggle anymore? Because he was sick of doing things with his hands? Oh no.

Because he felt the immense pull, desire, to protect her.

Why ever that was.

"Yes", he finally replied to her, "for her."

* * *

She had just understood the last bit of conversation but he – and she was now completely unsure what to call him – wore such a serene, peaceful mask on his face (maybe that was due to the rather placid, chubby looking man – quite Italian looking, in fact, far from handsome – that it almost scared her.

"Yes", he had said, as he smiled again, "for her", and that statement more than puzzled her. Who was her? And for her? For whom what?

She cleared her throat. "Excuse me", she said, and her voice had a sarcastic quality to it she didn't quite mean, "care to explain, you-who's-name-I-don't-know-anymore?"

"Come with me", he stated and looked first at Hermione, then pulled Letitia up and marched both of the women out of the fast food restaurant and across the piazza to the metro-station.

As soon as he had led them both into a dark corner, where usually people were not even allowed, he grabbed Letitia around the waist and looked sternly at Hermione. "Our place", he said softly, "please?"

Hermione nodded and with a pop, she was gone.

* * *

Letitia looked at him with wide eyes again – this was all too much for the poor girl. She couldn't grasp it – no sane person could but hopefully, with time and care, she would be able to just accept it. But for now, he would have to get her back home, back to their place where she could ask as many questions as she liked. So he held her tightly and took her with him as he apparated.

She squealed in his ear and he wasn't sure whether it was from joy or fear and not even seconds later, they landed in front of their building, Hermione waiting for them.

"Babbo", Letitia gasped and almost doubled over when he loosened his grip on her.

"Yes?", he grinned and helped her stand straight. "I'll explain, I promise."

"We should probably get inside. There's a person who looks astonishing like you", Hermione growled pointing discreetly at Paolo who was just rounding the corner.

He swore and looked at Hermione pointedly. She took the hand of the girl and when both of them looked up again, he was gone.

* * *

"Let's go upstairs. Have a cup of tea and we'll explain", Hermione smiled. "But before we go, Letitia, what was he saying earlier about doing something for someone?"

Letitia looked like a deer caught in the headlights and couldn't answer. Hermione sighed – her parents had reacted quite similarly to the entire wizardry-thing. She put her arm around the girl's shoulder and smiled.

"Come on, Letitia, maybe you can tell me later."

"You", Letitia caught herself again – if only for a quick moment, "He's a wizard again because of you."

"For me?"

Letitia nodded, then fell silent and wide-eyed again.

Hermione didn't care. She almost carried the girl up to the second floor – and she could have carried everything in that moment. He was doing it for her.

For her.

For Hermione Granger.

He was returning, even in another body, for her. Because she had asked him.

Did that mean – erm, well – did that mean that she meant something more to him?

It must be the case. It must. She rushed up the stairs, dragging the poor girl with her and when she pushed the door open, she saw him standing there – returned (why so fast? - she wondered) to his own body.

She stared at him, then back at Letitia, who was still quite pale, leaned her against the door and when she saw the girl was safe, she rushed towards him – stock-still in front of him.

"What do I call you now?", she asked timidly and very shyly.

* * *

He couldn't help but smile at her sudden shyness and carefully took a step towards her. Slowly, cautiously, he brought his hands up to her arms, then let them slide down before he folded his fingers over her hands.

"Whatever you want to call me, Hermione", he said softly and with his left hand, he gently caressed her cheek.

She nodded and smiled at him before she basically fell into his arms, gasping.

He chuckled – relieved. She was back where she belonged.

No – a part of his brain still screamed – even after all the thoughts he had had before. That was just wrong, wrong, wrong. A wrong thought, definitely.

She didn't belong to him.

But you want her to belong to you – another part of his brain screamed.

And for the first time in his life – Severus Snape didn't listen to either part of his brain and simply told it to stuff it. He bent down and kissed her. Just kissed her like he had longed to do for long, long weeks.

* * *

It took them a while to get Letitia back to normal. By the end of the day, long after Hermione had left (she had a son to look after after all), she had calmed, she had tried to comprehend.

It was difficult. Like someone had suddenly explained to her that Rome was not the capital of Italy. Or that the sun was spinning around the world – and that would probably affect her less than what she had heard now.

She had to put all her beliefs upside down.

But the longer she thought about it (and she didn't really sleep so she had a lot of time to think about it), the more she found that a lot of positive things could come out of this.

For instance – if she wanted a different hair-colour, she would ask Babbo. Transportation was simpler with that apparearing-thing than with the bus or the metro. She could simply look like another person and as Hermione had said – injuries and sicknesses could be easier healed. Babbo had let things zoom through the room (like little Jack had done in the gelateria) and she would never have to get up again get the tea for him, probably.

She would have to get used to it – and then, then she would see the positive side.

* * *

He cast a Muffliato on himself and hoped that it didn't affect the pronto. He surely wouldn't leave Letitia alone on a night like this but now that he was ready and prepared to help Hermione, to become a part of the other world again, he wanted to proceed as quickly as possible. And that meant ridding the world of one Lucius Malfoy. He had unfinished business with Lucius Malfoy (and a tiny little unfinished business with Draco) and there were some things he certainly had to pay for. And he would make him pay. Threefold.

"'lo?", Hermione answered the phone – sleepily.

"Did I wake you?", he asked softly – glad that apparently the pronto was still working.

"Mh", she grumbled and he heard her shift up, "I'm up."

"Sorry", he mumbled. "It's only nine. I didn't think you were sleeping."

"Jack was a bit angry at his mummy for being away all day long."

"Mh...you weren't gone that long", he stated. "It was only about two hours."

"Oh, I, erm, I met with Arthur Weasley before I met you", she stammered. She had completely forgotten about that.

"You met with Arthur Weasley?", he asked incredulously.

"Yes. I needed some insight into the Ministry", she explained. "But he wasn't that helpful."

"Everything now could be helpful", he scolded, viciousness in his voice.

"You really mean to help Draco and Millie, don't you?"

"I really want Malfoy put away", he added fiercely.

* * *

He sat sighing in his chair, on the table, surrounded by his family. He glanced around until his eyes fell on George. The boy needed a task or something. In the past three years – well, since – well – the Final Battle – since... - well, George had difficulties living without Fred and he hadn't done much. He had sold Weasley's Wizard's Wheezes. He had stayed at home mostly, burying himself and the most he had done was de-gnoming the garden.

That couldn't go on like that. And before – all the ideas him or Molly had had were for nothing.

But this, he couldn't refuse doing that, could he?

For the first time in his life, he made a decision concerning his children without his wife – but he knew that she would agree.

"George!", he said solemnly and waited until the depressed former twin without his other half looked up before he continued, "Hermione Granger needs your help and you'll go to Rome and protect her."

"But..."

"No backtalk", Molly scolded, instantly agreeing with her husband, especially after having just heard almost the entire story. "Do as your father says. She's alone with a baby and she needs your help."

George hung his head and knew – no matter how much he talked, no matter how much he tried not to go – against the full force of his parents – he had no choice.

__


	31. A Squib for a Day

_**The usual disclaimers apply.**_

_**

* * *

**_

"Soooo", Letitia began as he stood next to her Babbo, as he was stirring in a cauldron (she had learned that word now) again. The fire again in their sink. It was ridiculous – both of them knew it but there was no other way to do it at the moment – and Letitia was unsure what he was doing with that stuff anyway. Or..."what is that?", she asked, pointing at the blueish goo.

He smirked at her and raised an eyebrow. "That, my dear girl, will allow you to see the embassy where Hermione works."

She frowned. He had explained. She had understood. It had taken her a week, granted – but it had been a good week, with a lot of little Jack on her lap and a lot of kissing between Babbo and Hermione when they thought she wasn't looking.

"But you say that I'm muggle. That is why I cannot see embassy but ruins", she shrugged.

"Exactly. That's why I'm brewing this potion", he still smirked. "It's a rather genius one, I must say."

"You sound like you invent it yourself", she mumbled and he once again, turned to face her after he had waved his wand over the bubbling mess.

"I did", he grinned and dropped a kiss on her forehead.

"But...Hermione said it would be dangerous for you in the emberrassy", she argued.

"Embassy, embassy, Letitia. And yes, it might be dangerous. But..."

"You can take Plyjuice."

"Polyjuice. Polyjuice", he looked at her sternly. "Repeat, please?"

"Polyjuice", she rolled her eyes. "Polyjuice."

"Good girl", he waved his wand over the cauldron again and continued stirring.

"You change", it was her turn to smirk. "Babbo is in love."

"I am not", he snarled back.

Her grin widened and she did a little jig right behind him before she poked him in the ribs and began to chant in a sing-sang voice. "Babbo is in love, Babbo is in love!"

He growled. "When you've quite finished."

She laughed, her eyes dancing and continued to chant. Sometimes, it just was a lot of fun to rile Babbo up like that.

* * *

How glad she was that there was peace between him and herself. That they were together again. That she was sure that she was falling for him and that he – even though he had never said it again – was feeling the same way.

Little Jack even loved him and had taken to calling him Jack as well. No more of that daddy-nonsense anyway.

And Severus/Jack – he hadn't admitted it either but he loved the little one as well and played with him quite often when they had the chance. He had taken on the father-figure-role for the little one, sort of at least. There were aspects of his personality now (which was a different one from the one she had gotten to know during her years at Hogwarts – but had she known him then?) that surprised her.

The way he handled Letitia, that he was a stern but gentle man with her – that she was allowed so many things and not scolded all the time. That he almost freely distributed hugs to her (and to herself, of course as well as to Jack), that the girl had a free hand when it came to choosing clothes and shoes and handbags and that he willingly paid for almost anything.

The way he spoke softly to all of them, the malice gone from his voice, the sneer not there. His tongue still had a sharp edge – towards her and Letitia at least – but it was all done in good fun.

He didn't belittle her for knowing things, asking questions and he was more than curious about what had happened in the wizarding world.

But – as far as she could judge that – he was using all that information she was giving him for a plan for the downfall of Lucius Malfoy.

It apparently wasn't done with the Polyjuice Potion and duelling and surprising him alone. He wanted to train with her, spar with her. She had gotten ingredients (that she – oddly enough – couldn't place or couldn't say which potion he would need them for) but what exactly he had planned, he wouldn't tell.

He had said, he wouldn't tell her yet. Yet.

She just hoped that he trusted her enough eventually. And yet she knew that maybe he still had issues with trusting other people but she relied enough on herself, on her affection for him and her ability not to destroy that which they had.

* * *

He liked playing with mummy but he also liked playing with Millie and Draco and Toffee but he especially liked playing with Lettie and more than anything, he loved loved loved playing with Jack. Jack who had the same name like him. But he was 'ack most of the time and and Jack was just Jack.

Jack smelled good and he always thought of interesting things to play with – even if it was just something as simple as a tennis ball (mummy had tennis balls for when she practised those spells. He was never allowed to see) that he would charm or hex or so to be up in the air so he could catch it.

And Jack had promised him a broom, a baby broom when mummy wasn't listening.

But oddly enough, he had the oddest feeling that he knew Jack. Somehow. From the time when he had still lived with the other mummy and the other daddy. But that was all hazy.

* * *

He had to admit that this potion was one of his more brilliant ideas – at least in his current life. It was nothing earth-shattering, nothing big and he didn't have a name for it but it would allow Letitia to see the embassy, go in there and talk to everyone and let her experience the wizarding world a bit more. She wouldn't be able to do magic herself but she would basically be a squib for a day after taking the potion.

It wasn't that difficult, really, when one thought about it. It needed to counteract the confoundment, it needed to allow her to focus and all that was possible.

She sat quietly on the table in the kitchen, watching him curiously. He knew that she longed to being able to do a bit of magic as well, just a bit – since everyone was around was able to do it and she felt a bit left out (understandably). There was nothing he could do about it though, except the fact that he wasn't really using magic when they were alone, no matter how much she begged him to do it.

He still made his tea by hand, fetched things when he wanted them instead of accioing them, and except for the potions, his wand was mostly stored away somewhere safe (after he had found her waving it around one night when she had stolen it from his nightstand and thought he was asleep. She had tried and tried and when nothing had happened, she had banged it down again and he had heard her sobbing. Yes, he had left her to cry for five minutes until he pretended to wake up and had consoled her by taking her in his arms. She hadn't told him why she had cried – but he knew. The poor girl).

In short, he was still living like a muggle – apart from the fact that he was planning the downfall of Lucius Malfoy.

And yet, he would make her take the potion, would take Polyjuice himself (and would take a little flask – the idea courtesy of Barty Crouch Jr) and would take her to the embassy. To assess the location.

And to tell Hermione of his plan. At least a part of his plan.

Maybe he could spar with her a little. That should be fun.

He was itching to hex some people again. All in good fun, of course.

* * *

"Hi", she said softly when he and the girl had come to the embassy. How he had made it possible that she could actually see the building, she wasn't sure but he would probably tell her – some day.

She couldn't bring herself to hug him – no, she couldn't do it when he looked like the ugly neighbour. But she embraced the girl and both of them giggled when there was a shout of "Lettie!", and little Jack came running on his short legs and hugged the legs of the girl.

"Oh Jack", she laughed and picked him up, settling him on her hip. "Do you want to play with me?"

"Where Jack?", the boy asked, his face scrunched in seriousness.

Hermione shot Severus/Jack a look but he gave her a little shake of the head.

"We will see Jack tonight for dinner again, hm, baby?", she kissed the boy on the cheek and Letitia let the little one guide her to his room. After a minute, both of them could only hear squeaks of joy from both of them.

"So...?", Hermione asked, still standing in the foyer. "Would you like a tour?"

"Is he...and her – are they here?"

Hermione nodded. "Millie's working on something or other and Draco should be with her."

"No, he's not", Draco shook his head, coming down the staircase, curiously eyeing Jack/Severus.

He came towards them – and lifted his hand for him to take. "I'm Draco Malfoy", he introduced himself.

* * *

Severus knew that this moment was crucial – crucial to his entire plan. Draco wasn't to know that he was who he was.

Gingerly, with a big, fat, Paolo-smile on his face, he shook the younger man's hand. "Jack Torrance. Delighted."

Draco had already turned to Hermione. "So he's the reason we have to babysit every other night?", he tutted and had his eyebrows raised, his lips pursed, clearly showing that he was making fun of Hermione. "I was so sure you could have done better", he threw over his shoulder as he walked away.

"The little...", Hermione ground out but he put a soothing hand on her shoulder.

"It's okay, Hermione", he said softly, then bent over her shoulder and whispered in her ear, "That went exactly as I wanted it to go."

She looked at him – and couldn't see a tiny bit of Severus Snape – no, he was right. He was, in this body, a nondescript, completely uninteresting, mediocre-at-best wizard in muggle clothes. Nothing special, a face one could forget easily. Perfect.

"Is there anywhere we can talk in...", he began when there was a knock on the door.

She looked at him in surprise. "Did someone follow you?", she asked, a slight tinge of anxiety in her voice.

He shook his head. "Certainly not."

She shrugged, then went to the front door, and he followed her immediately, backing her up – his hand closing around his wand.

* * *

"Did you see the guy that Hermione's with now?", Draco sneered when he came into her office again.

"No, who?", she looked up from a few papers she was shuffling around. The truth of the matter was that she wasn't really working. There was nothing to do. The big party cancelled due to the threat of Lucius Malfoy and no British wizards who needed their help. Nothing. She was merely sorting invoices and had written a letter to an aunt. Nothing more.

"A middle-aged, balding guy. Not quite handsome. And I always thought the Weasel was a bad choice for her but this..."

"Wizard?"

"I guess so. Otherwise he wouldn't have been there, would he?"

"He is here?", Millie asked, slightly panicky.

"Yes. But she trusts him and he's certainly not my father", he moved around her desk and wrapped his arms around her. "Besides, even if it's my father, he cannot harm you. Did you forget?"

She shook her head and leaned against him. "No, I didn't."

He smirked and kissed her temple gently. "Good. Want to meet this casanova?"

Millie grinned but shook her head. "Nope. I think I'd like to take a nap though."

He wriggled his eyebrows suggestively and patted her bottom when she got up.

* * *

Hermione's eyes widened. She was glad that he, no matter in which shape, was behind her.

"Erm...", was all she could say. "Hello."

"'lo 'ermione", George answered. "Can I come in?"

"Polyjuice", Severus/Jack whispered in her ear.

"Erm, yes. George. Which was the, erm, most, erm, popular item in the Skiving Snackboxes?", she asked, stuttering. Why was he here?

"Nosebleed Nougat", George replied and his shoulders slumped a little. "Can I come in now? I'm not Polyjuiced and the war's over."

"Please", Hermione stepped aside. "Come in. Erm, is there a reason you're here?"

He nodded, then stared at Severus/Jack in the disguise of Paolo.

"Dad sent me. He said you needed help", he began gruffly, pulling a little packet from the pocket of his robes and enlarged it to a trunk. His school trunk, the way it looked.

"Help?", Hermione frowned. "Well, that depends on your point of view. It's not really me that needs help, it's..."

"Who's he?", George asked, interrupting her and pointing at Severus/Jack. "Already replaced my brother?"

* * *

So Hermione had already found a replacement for his little brother Ron. Not a surprise – Lavender Brown, the cow, was in The Burrow almost 24/7 these days. But him?

He was ugly – to be truthful. Chubby – no, fat – balding. And his smile was too wide, his teeth yellowed.

"Jack Torrance", the man said and shook his hand.

"George Weasley", he replied, his face a mask of neutrality. "I'm quite tired, 'ermione. Think I can nap for a...", he stopped when he saw the child – the child, erm, Hermione's child now on the arm of a girl. A young woman. And he his mouth fell open suddenly. Beautiful. Just beautiful.

__


	32. Sparring

_**The usual disclaimers apply.**_

_**

* * *

**_

He noticed immediately. No – no, that would never do.

He was behind George in a flash and had his wand pressed into the flesh on the back of the Weasley's neck.

"She's 15, Weasley", he growled. "Put the look off your face and close your mouth – or I swear to Merlin, you'll end up in pieces."

George lifted his hand in a surrendering motion and turned slowly as he slowly took the wand back.

"Alright, alright. Keep your knickers out of the twist, mate", he shook his head. "Looks older than 15", he muttered to himself.

"But she is only 15 and if you don't keep your dirty paws off her, you will feel needles and pins for the rest of your life and in addition to that..."

"Yes, I'll end up in pieces. I understand", he replied.

Jack/Severus/Paolo drew back slightly but not before shooting George Weasley another dirty look. Only problem was though that probably his Paolo Berlusconi looks weren't as threatening as the Severus Snape ones. Well, it would have to do.

He glanced at Hermione who wore a look of bemusement on her face, slightly crooked mouth, the skin around her eyes ever so slightly wrinkled. She had to hold a lot in.

She lay a soothing hand on his arm – and smiled.

Her smile could undo him every time – no matter what she did. He breathed deeply. Nobody would ever lay a hand on Letitia – not ever. She was too fragile and for her young life, she had had enough experiences with sex as it was.

"Come on, Jack. Let's go in the sparring room", she said gently after she had called Toffee, who had bowed and said she would show George a room to sleep in for the time being.

* * *

He was quite handsome, wasn't he? Red shock of hair, blue, blazing eyes. Tall, lean. And the way he stared at her – it was different than all the other looks men had ever shot her (and no, in that instance, Babbo was not a man. Babbo was Babbo). There was nothing predatory in his glance, nothing that told her that he wanted to devour her as a whole, nothing but – could it be? – admiration. Wonder probably.

She smiled at him and when he, shyly, returned the smile, Babbo in his disguise was behind him, pushing that piece of wood – wand – into his neck and probably threatening him. She would have to talk to him about that.

She was old enough, experienced enough to know when men were evil and dirty.

And that handsome young man was anything but. She just knew, she just knew.

She shivered in anticipation and continued to smile at him. Certainly life in the wizarding world – or on the edge of it – couldn't be so bad if he was in it.

She grinned at him as he disappeared with the funny looking – what had Babbo told her? – house elf called Toffee.

Slowly would do it.

* * *

"Are you sure?", Hermione stood opposite him in the room she used for practising spells, sparring and had her wand drawn, pointing at him.

"Aguamenti", he simply grinned and if she hadn't cast a quick Protego before, she would have been drenched.

"Really?", she called and took two steps back. "Impedimenta!"

He laughed and merely stepped aside. "Hermione, Hermione", he tutted. "I may not have had a wand for a long time but aim, woman! Aim, otherwise you'll never get me. You might just as well surrender."

She concentrated on the person across from her – not looking like Severus Snape, not looking like Jack Torrance but rather his chubby neighbour. She shot jinx after jinx at him and he countered. It was an even duel – none of them could gain the upper hand for a while and neither noticed that instead of getting distance between them, they grew closer and closer together.

She enjoyed it – she was sweaty and grew more tired every minute but if she had to guess, she would have said that they had been duelling for the better of forty minutes. She knew she just had to cast one final hex – and get it through his shield and they'd be done.

* * *

He realized that he was changing forms again – but the doors to the room where they practised were heavily warded and locked (all in the name of Jack's safe-keeping, she had said). It was fun – and only by way of the Polyjuice did he notice how much time had passed. He had taken a dose just before they had started – and now it was wearing off.

She was good – he had to say that. She really was good and a talented duellist. Oddly enough, he didn't feel rusty – no. It was physically exhausting though and he knew that before he could try and do anything with Lucius Malfoy, he would have to take up some form of exercise.

Exercise. The doors were warded and locked, right? Exercise.

A sly grin crept on his face and he knew that in a few seconds, he would look like his own self again.

Gathering together the rest of his energy, he concentrated hard – noticed how close they were and managed to get a trip jinx through her shield.

Hermione shrieked (what a lovely sound to his ears) and fell – not very elegantly – over her own legs. Only – he had misjudged the distance ever so slightly (or maybe not) and she landed in his arms, pulling him down on the floor with her. Heavily panting, she lay on top of him.

He grinned and instead of letting her get up again, he wrapped her in his arms. "I win", he said in the same moment that he changed back to his own body.

"Unfair!", she giggled.

"Unfair?", he asked back. "Unfair? I'll show you unfair", he continued as he tickled her with one hand, the other holding her and his wand.

She shrieked again and giggled, tiny noises that sounded like music to his ears. He smiled at her, grinned at her, decided it was safe to put the wand on the floor next to him and tickled her ribs with both his hands, as she writhed helplessly on top of him.

He noted with glee that Hermione didn't really fight back – instead, she seemed to enjoy the closeness of their bodies and seemed to wriggle in a way that wasn't quite so necessary.

From one second to the other though – the mood changed and she stared in his eyes, stilling his hands with her own.

* * *

"I have to."

"You don't have to do anything."

"Oh yes, I do."

"You sound childish."

"..."

"Let's forget that, alright?"

"How can I? This is not a matter to be forgotten like that."

"It is. Now, if you just keep your mouth shut, everything will turn out fine."

"No."

"Yes."

"What do I get if I do it?"

"Have a pick."

* * *

She had put Jack down for his nap (and true, she had never done it but it wasn't so difficult, was it? The little one got a new nappy after he had eaten, she had sung him a U2 song (she couldn't really remember the title but it was in the radio a lot these days), softly, of course, and he had slept. Not difficult at all!) and noticed that Babbo and Hermione were still somewhere else.

Allora, the way she saw it – they had probably found a quiet corner – and were...allora, doing that. It was high time in Letitia's opinion anyway. Together for God only knew how many months (2? yep, around that time). Together, yes.

Somewhere deep inside, Letitia knew that she had a disturbed relationship to sex. Somewhere deep down, she knew that she was much too young to have such an experience. And yet, barefoot, she made herself on her way to the room she thought the tall, handsome man was in.

Just to find out his name. And he had the look. Something in his look – astonishing.

She listened at the door and heard – nothing. Her hand was slowly creeping up and she surprised herself by knocking gently.

"Come in", came a tired, gruff voice from within.

She opened the door only a little and looked in. "Ciao", she said gently and smiled.

"Oh, it's you", he had, apparently, been laying on the bed and scrambled up immediately when he saw who it was.

"It's me, yes", she nodded and didn't dare to step into the room.

"Come in, come in", he smiled back. Sitting at the edge of the bed, he gestured at a chair he had just conjured out of thin air – or so it seemed to Letitia.

"I don't think I will get used to magic", she shrugged and laughed. Okay, it was more like a giggle but she knew that giggling was school-girlish and she really wanted to sound mature.

"Excuse me?", he asked, stunned. "What d'you mean? Used to magic."

"I'm a, what did Babbo say? Muggle", she smiled and flashed her white, straight teeth.

"You are? How come you're in here then? I thought muggles couldn't see..."

She laughed again, this time a real laugh, not a giggle. "I know. Babbo, that was the man downstairs – well, almost – he made a, erm, pushion? No, not the right word – erm, pushkin? No, that's vodka..."

"Potion?", he helped.

She nodded vigorously. "Yes, potion. Said I would be, erm, squib – don't know what that means – for one day."

He wrinkled his brow and stood up. "I'm George Weasley, by the way", he offered her his hand and she took it – gladly.

* * *

"I'm Letitia Vespucci", she smiled again. What a smile. He hadn't seen such a smile in...forever.

"Nice", he grinned and to his embarrassment, his ears turned a slight tinge of pink. She laughed again. It was a wonderful sound to his ears.

"Now I can see embarassy and Babbo said I could babysit little Jack as well. And spent more time with Hermione."

"Babbo is who?", George asked again – knowing there was something he was missing.

"Jack Torrance. You met downstairs? He looked evilly at you. Usually, he looks more evil but with the, erm...cazzo! Erm, si, he..."

"What do you mean with the...erm, cazzo?"

She giggled – a full-blown giggle. "Not cazzo. Cazzo is Italian. Bad word", she raised her eyebrows. "Forget it. Babbo is the man you see downstairs. Is Hermione's boyfriend", she nodded.

"Really..."

"Certo."

"But Babbo, erm, bugger, Jack Torrance is not your real father, is he?"

Letitia shook her head, her long, dark hair falling over her shoulder. "My father is dead and Babbo rescued me. Is adopting me."

He nodded slowly. Something was not right here. A muggle in the embassy? A strange man Hermione's boyfriend? No wonder his father had forced him to come here.

* * *

"Severus", she breathed before she bent down to kiss him softly.

It was like the opening of a dam when she spoke his name, his real name, like this. For the first time like this. Yes, despite the fact that it was a weird name in the Italian (and probably English) muggle world – it was his name and she said it – whispered it – needy, wanting him, apparently.

"Severus", she repeated against his lips, still lying on top of him, their fingers now somehow interlaced.

"Hermione", he whispered back. "I..."

She shook her head and smiled. "Just be quiet", she whispered and kissed him and this time – he couldn't hold himself back – it was one of those kisses they had shared before – before she had known who he really was and somewhere in his brain – this registered and he was eternally grateful that she could still kiss him like this, still wanted to kiss him like this.

And that her leg was slipping between his.

His eyes widened and he broke the kiss.

"Hermione?", he asked, unsure whether she was really ready – really ready to take this step.

"Don't be such a girl, Severus", she chuckled. "It's been two months. And not a moment too soon the way I feel it." Her leg moved between his legs and her eyebrows gave a suggestive wriggle.

Giving in on such a matter was the easiest and losing himself in her, in himself, in them, when she started undressing him – when he started peeling the sweaty clothes from her body – was most likely the simplest thing he had ever done in his life.

And – that he was sure of – the most wonderful, beautiful, sacred love-making, sex, coupling, he had ever experienced.

* * *

She tried to catch her breath – difficult though it was.

Ron Weasley had been the first and the only. And Ron Weasley compared to Severus Snape was a boy who fumbled around in the dark.

Her shouts had echoed from the walls and she was ever so glad she had cast soundproof-charms on the room.

"Severus?", she asked, surprised that he had not rolled away, that he was still with her on the floor in the sparring room.

"Mh?", he asked lazily, stroking her bare upper arm.

"Thank you", she whispered and earned a sly grin from him.

"You're welcome", he repeated, kissed her gently, and then, put her head on his chest, kissing her hair. "If you had told me I'd be here, like this, with you, a year ago, hell, three months ago, I would have taken you to St Mungo's straight away."

She looked up and smiled. "If someone had ever told me, I'd be here with Severus Snape, I would have taken them to St Mungo's straight away", she giggled and didn't notice him tensing up just slightly.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

__


	33. Aftermath again

**_The usual disclaimers apply.  
_**

**_

* * *

_**

She laughed, a strong laugh, including throwing her head back, and it took her a moment to calm down. She brushed a hand over his heavily scarred chest and smiled before she gave him a soft kiss on the lips.

"Don't be such a sissy, Severus. You know I didn't mean it that way."

"Pardon?", he asked, still tense – even though, he had to admit that the soothing hand on his chest and the way she didn't pay any attention to those scars – were nice.

Hermione shook her head and lay her head down on the crook of his neck, snuggling up to him.

"Three years ago, three and a bit years ago, I thought you were dead. A year ago, I thought you were dead. Four years and a bit ago, I thought you were a Death Eater – and that you had fooled everyone. And five years ago, you were the most feared teacher – well, apart from Professor McGonagall. Don't you see?"

He rolled his eyes and tried to push her off but even though she landed next to him, she cuddled to him almost immediately. "Be honest. Would you have thought you'd be here with me five years ago? Or one year ago? Six months? Be honest, Severus!"

He grimaced, then, slowly, his arm came around her once more as he shook his head slowly. "The Gryffindor princess?"

"Exactly my point", she smiled. "Now, can we forget about all that? You didn't care about all that before, well, before I knew who you were...now you do?"

He shook his head, then nodded. "I don't know", he whispered in a voice, very foreign to him. It sounded almost – vulnerable.

"If you're getting difficult, Severus, I'll go back to treating you – and calling you – Jack."

"You have to call me Jack anyway when we're..."

She poked him gently and he twitched underneath her fingers. "I know, I know. But then I'll hide the fact that you're a wizard and that I'm a witch. If that's what it takes to be..."

He shook his head and put his index finger on her lips. "No, no it doesn't take that. I'm..."

"You're still learning, I get it", she smiled. "I've got time."

He pulled her to him and, very quietly, he said, "Thank you."

* * *

She smiled in his arms. He had thanked her. Severus Snape. The thought alone was, well, weird. But he had said it so quietly, so softly, that she thought it was better to pretend she hadn't heard him.

Instead, Hermione decided to just smile at him, trace the horrible scars on his chest and, if the opportunity presented itself, explore those scars on his neck. She had seen them for the first time now – usually hidden beneath collars.

Collars? Maybe...but the Dark...

She took his hand in hers and pulled his arm closer to her eyes.

"Severus, where is your...?", she asked.

He chuckled – Severus Snape chuckled, then took one of her fingers into his mouth, sucking on it gently, then, took the finger out and rubbed it over the hidden Mark.

"Letitia's idea. It's make-up", he grinned boyishly.

"Make-up?", she laughed. "That's rather ingenious."

"Her idea, her idea", he repeated. "You would have found out who I was immediately if you had seen it that first night. And I daresay, we wouldn't be here then."

She looked into his dark eyes – deeply – and shook her head. "Probably not."

"I'm glad she had that idea", he nuzzled her neck and bit her gently. She couldn't help but shriek and attacked him with another round of kisses to his face.

* * *

"Were you in this war as well? Babbo told me about it", Letitia asked innocently. Cielo, the guy seemed lovely. Interesting. Handsome. Smart. Someone who didn't want to do bad things with her. Sant'Iddio, he hadn't even touched her yet, apart from that handshake. But he had looked at her. And there was something in that look.

Something, she had only read about before.

But – as soon as she had asked that question, his face fell and he looked down on the floor where his toes in the socks bored into the carpet.

"Giorgio?", she asked gently and moved to the bed next to him before she put an arm around him. "Are you alright?"

"Mh?", he looked up, startled by the physical contact.

"Babbo said many people died", she whispered. "And..."

"My twin brother", he interrupted her. "Fred."

"Madonna...", she said breathlessly. "I'm sorry."

George shrugged, and carefully, brought his hand up to his own ear, twisting at it and then - to the shock of Letitia - pulled it off.

"Giorgio?", she gasped.

"I lost my ear. Fred lost his life."

* * *

What else could he do but shrug? Fred had died. Full stop. There was nothing more to be said about it. He had lost his other half – nothing could change that. The ear - oh well. Snape was dead - otherwise, there would be revenge. The muggle contraption, well, his father had brought it home one day. Had thought that his ear was what had depressed him - at least partially. Thought he would be happier if he had at least that back. Nope. Damn plastic muggle ear.

But it was odd, really, the girl really seemed to have the knack of consoling someone - and she hadn't even stared at the ear that much. Or the hole that was now in his head. She hugged him close to her and he allowed himself to let his head fall on her shoulder. He was, had been for some time, really, beyond crying but he felt as if he could breathe freely for the first time there in her arms.

"It's okay, Giorgio. I'm sorry for asking", Letitia whispered consolingly.

George breathed deeply and pulled away slightly. "No matter, no matter."

She looked at him inquisitively and he was reminded of the way that Hermione had sometimes looked at him and Fred when they had tried out new items for the Skiving Snackboxes. There was something in her glance that made him shiver inside and want to spill his guts.

"We were a team – him and me", he said softly and while scooting a bit away from her, took her hand in his and played absently with her fingers, never taking his eyes off their hands. "We worked together. We had a shop together."

"What kind of shop?"

"A joke shop", he answered. "But since he's gone..."

"I understand. You cannot do it anymore. It was the same with me. Is the same. My mamma was a, erm, sarta, erm, make clothes?"

"Seamstress?", he helped.

She nodded. "Yes, and she lived in Tuscany. My father died when I was a baby and when my mamma died", she shrugged. "had to get away from Tuscany. Had to get away from clothes. She was teaching me."

He nodded understandingly. All of that made sense.

"Cannot touch a needle. Cannot go back to home. Ran away from orphanage."

"And ended up here with your babbo."

She nodded. "So, I understand you don't want to have joke shop anymore. And away from where he was all the time will be good for you." Letitia smiled and squeezed his hand. "You will see that Italy will help. And Hermione is lovely woman."

George chuckled – for the first time in a while. "And you are a lovely woman", he said softly.

The blush was most delicious to look at. And he didn't care in that moment that she was 15. He was only 23 himself after all.

* * *

"What would you think about a safe house?", he asked, closing the zipper of her dress in the back.

"For us?", Millie asked. "But..."

"Fidelius. He wouldn't be able to find it, we could get out of here. Be honest, Chubbs, we will never be great friends with Hermione Granger. And that chap she's got there – please...there is something fishy about him. His accent is English and neither of us know him. Jack Torrance – I bet that's an alias."

Millie breathed deeply. A safe house was probably the answer. She could still floo to work every day and if Malfoy still thought them to be in Rome – the better.

"We need a secret keeper. And a house."

"My uncle has a cottage", she helped, "that I inherited. Nobody knows about it. Cornwall though."

He grinned from ear to ear. "That's perfect."

She smiled back and kissed him. "And we'll make Hermione secret keeper. Or maybe little Jack", she grinned.

* * *

"Now", she put her hair back into the ponytail, letting her fingers smoothing it a bit (as much as that was possible anyway), "would you like a tour?"

He smiled, kissed her softly and chucked the entire vial of Polyjuice in one go, then took her hand and together, they unwarded the door – both smirking at how important those wards had been.

"My bedroom is there", she pulled him with her and opened the door to her bedroom. Hermione was glad that she had decorated a bit, hung a few pictures (none of Ron – but some of Harry and her family in Australia these days), had fresh linens on the bed. A few flowers, some reminders of an earlier life.

Unfortunately, she had forgotten, that there was one memento of a part of her life that he would probably recognize straight away. Dumb her, but it was there, on the mantle, next to an image of her with Harry from their first year at Hogwarts, and he strode towards it instantly.

Hermione paled. No, she hadn't planned it like that.

Stupid, sentimental her for leaving that there. For even keeping it. Nobody would have known what it was – but she hadn't thought about Severus Snape ever entering her bedroom. He would realize what she had kept.

* * *

It was a lovely room – a canopy bed, white linens, just big enough for two people – the room full of personal touches. She had managed – but only just – to make it look cosy without making it appear tacky.

Lots of pictures everywhere, on her nightstand, on the mantlepiece.

But there – next to one picture of child-Hermione with child-Harry, both in Gryffindor robes, was a vial.

A vial? Why would there be a vial in her bedroom?

He shook her hand off and rushed towards the vial. She wouldn't keep a vial in there for nothing.

There was a tiny bit of liquid left in the little glass container and he pulled the cork stopper out.

"Se...damn, Jack! No!", she cried out but he simply turned to look at her briefly, then sniffed the liquid. And then, sniffed once more.

"Hermione? That's..."

"Mh? Jack, no. It's..."

"Baby's Breath. Hermione, that's illegal", he frowned at her. "Who...", then it seemed like the penny had dropped. Carefully, he put the stopper back into the vial and looked at Hermione once more. She knew that he knew. Or suspected. He placed the vial carefully on the mantle and strode, rushed out of her bedroom.

Hermione followed him immediately. "Jack..."

"Where's he?", he asked, "I knew there was something familiar about him. Where's the nursery?", he asked again, and pushed open the door next to her bedroom.

"Jack, I can explain", she said in an urgent tone. "Really."

Severus came to a halt just in front of little Jack's bed and picked the sleeping child up. "It's Lily's cheekbones. It's his mouth. His eyes. And the perfect blend of hair colours. I should have seen it ages ago."

"Severus", she said quietly. "Don't wake him, please?"

"Why? How? Did you make the potion? Hermione, you could land in Azkaban for this."

She shook her head. He had spoken louder than supposed to and little Jack slowly opened his eyes, blinking at Severus. "Jack", he babbled and made himself comfortable in his arms when he sighed contentedly.

"You have the saviour of the wizarding world in here", he said softly, urgently. "Hermione, you have a lot to explain."

She closed her eyes, swallowed, then nodded. "But don't tell anyone, just don't tell anyone. I promised him. I really did."

Severus nodded and looked at little Jack. Observed him, really. It was completely different, seeing him not as a carbon copy of his father. Or maybe the constricted feeling in his chest was just because he had liked the child before – and now knew that he was Harry Potter.

Even though – was he Harry Potter?

He swallowed. Time to be honest. "Now I know why he called me daddy."

****


	34. Safe House

_**The usual disclaimers apply.**_

_**Happy Birthday, ginnylovesharry07!**_

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* * *

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Hermione gasped. "Severus! You're not Harry's father, are you?", her eyes were wide in surprise and – in shock.

He rolled his eyes and grimaced at her. "Don't be daft, woman", he snarled, "didn't I just tell you about the many attributes this little one has from one James Potter? And besides, me, the father of him?", he pointed at little Jack who was gurgling and happily chewing on his fingers.

"But...but you said...daddy and all", she stammered.

"Yes, daddy. He, ugh, take that child from me", he complained sternly as Jack decided to draw huge circles with his spit on his shirt.

Hermione grinned, unconvinced yet, but took the baby. "Now, now, Jack. Do not do that to, erm, Jack's shirt."

"Mummy not Jack", he pointed at the man.

"No, I know", she replied gently.

"If I may finish?", he cut in – sharply. "You wanted to know why he called me daddy."

"Sorry", Hermione shrugged.

"Sorry", the little one repeated.

"Go on", she smiled at him and put the boy on the floor where he instantly crawled towards his toys to play with an overly large plushy unicorn (and tried to poke things, including the calves of the two grown-ups with the one horn those animals had).

He sighed and leaned lightly against the wall before he cast a spell to keep unwanted visitors out of the nursery.

"Do you know the story about the prophecy? Of course you do", he shook his head. "Everyone does..."

"Only in so far that you heard a bit of it, then went to Vo..."

"Don't say it", he growled.

"You-know-who then until you found out it was all about the Potters."

"Somewhat correct, yes", his tone had an odd quality to it – he almost sounded like the teacher he had once been. But only just. No, he never wanted to sound like this again. Never again like this. He was done with all lecturing and teaching. Truly done.

"Somewhat correct?", she asked.

"Don't interrupt me now", there – there it was again. Damn voice. "Sorry, Hermione. It is somewhat correct. I am unsure what would have happened it he had gone after the Longbottoms in the first place instead of after him", he pointed at the boy on the floor. "I can't believe it's him", he shook his head and bent down. "I can't believe I didn't see it earlier", he mumbled and, shaking his head lightly, he straightened to look into her eyes. "But as it was, He had picked them. Merlin only knows why – could have been Neville Longbottom. Though that would have probably ended differently", he raised his eyebrows mockingly.

"He killed the snake", she said softly, looking to his neck.

He looked stunned for a moment, then, quicker than she realized, he had gotten his face back under control and nodded slowly. "Ah. I see."

"And?"

"No and, Hermione. It was as it was. The Dark Lord picked them, went after them. I'm sure it's old news if I tell you that I went to Dumbledore then."

She nodded. "I know."

"Right. So, yes. To make a long story short, I demanded to have evidence that Lily was safe. She disliked me since Fifth Year..."

"The..."

"Do not interrupt me", he glared. "We both know why and there's no need to say it", he paused, "She disliked me since Fifth Year but I think her priorities had changed when she went into hiding. I demanded, as I said, evidence that she was safe and Dumbledore made her write a letter. She wrote about non-substantial things. This little guy there, how beautiful her house was, that she had tried a few charms around the house. Nothing that could have led me to her – nothing that could have compromised them. A letter anyone could have written. But, in the letter she also said that Harry said daddy to all male people he had ever met. That Potter was, erm, not at all that happy about it. Of course that made me smile but the letter, all in all, didn't convince me and I asked Dumbledore to ask her to meet me."

"And she did?"

He nodded. "She did. Under the disguise of – once again – Polyjuice. We met in Hogsmeade and he", he pointed at little Jack, "was with her, unpolyjuiced, of course. I went as myself. There's nothing suspicious about me, spy, Death Eater, meeting with a young, beautiful mother and going up to one of the rooms in the Hogshead", he raised his eyebrows but shook his head, "people will make their own assumptions and Lily was clever enough to, well, dress to the occasion. But we talked a little, and she was, I, erm, she, er", he bit his lip, "she was, she didn't say anything about how they could be found, anything."

"She met with you alone?"

He bit his lip again and looked deeply into her eyes. "I don't think so. I think that Dumbledore and his brother were both disillusioned in the corner. And I had given Aberforth my wand before going upstairs. She was safe and she knew it."

"And then, the little one, he just..."

"He took a liking to me", he snorted. "Quite the opposite of what Mister Potter did in school. He pointed at me and called me daddy and climbed up my knee and played with my fingers. He wasn't quite the copy of his father back then. He's doing much the same things now, though I suspect he is about 2 months or so older, maybe three then when I last saw him", he ended softly and carefully walked over to where the baby was sitting. He picked him up and cradled him in his arms. Pressing a soft kiss on top of his head, he buried his nose in the tyke's hair and fell silent.

Too much – too much. If it hadn't been for him – and for his mother – so many things...no. He would have died a long time ago. And he wasn't dead.

All that was in the past – for real. No matter what his name. It didn't matter. No matter, no matter.

The past was the past.

He could learn from it, he couldn't undo it. He couldn't change it.

"If it hadn't been her and her family, I would be dead today", he whispered breathlessly.

* * *

She gasped and stormed to where he was standing – still as Paolo – with the baby in his arms. She had heard him and an admission like this – a man who showed his emotions like this – it was simply, quite simply overwhelming.

He still looked at Jack, stroked the little arm of him gently. She took a step closer to him and touched the hand that was holding her son.

She had no idea what to say to this – what could she say? He was probably right. Probably, probably not.

She stood in silence next to him, and he didn't look at her once. He simply held the baby and when he made soft mewling noises, he stroked his back soothingly. Not speaking.

It was him – Severus Snape – that broke the silence.

"Why did you do it?", he asked, looking into Jack's brown eyes.

"He was depressed before. It was...I think he couldn't deal with the fact that he had survived and so many others hadn't."

He shook his head and – in another moment of weakness, apparently – he kissed the toddler again before he handed him over to Hermione.

* * *

There was a sharp knock on the door and he could undo the wards and charms on it before the handle was pushed down and a sneering Draco, with Millicent in tow, stood in the room.

"Draco?", Hermione asked and he was shocked to see Millicent Bulstrode. The girl had lost weight – she seemed thinner, smaller, more feminine and she clung to Malfoy as if her life depended on it.

"Could we talk with you alone for a moment, please?", Millicent asked and blinked at him. No, the Polyjuice was perfectly working. Of course it was.

But wasn't it all for nothing anyway? Well, not really for nothing but he had wanted to talk to Hermione about Lucius Malfoy and now it seemed that the entire visit to the embassy had been for naught.

"I'll go and get Letitia and we'll go home then", he smiled his Paolo-smile at Hermione and squeezed her upper arm for a moment and turned to leave. His plan – the plan for the downfall of Lucius Malfoy, well, it all seemed a bit inadequate now. And he had a better idea now anyway.

"Jack, erm, wait, Millie, Draco, one second."

She rushed after him – with the baby still dozing in her arms – and closed the door to the nursery.

"Can we...?"

"I'll call you later tonight", he whispered. "Could you call your elf? I'll take Letitia home and will be there for the rest of the night."

She nodded. "I'll call – then maybe come over."

* * *

The elf led him straight to another room and he heard the voices of the infernal Weasley and his almost-daughter inside. He pushed the door open wide and tried to glower. He knew it wasn't as effective in the Paolo-body but he still tried his best.

"Letitia!", he said sternly. "Home, now."

Severus looked at George Weasley who was sitting next to Letitia on the bed – holding her hand! Staring him down was no big feat. The one-ear-man sat and looked on the floor. His head really bent.

"Babbo!", Letitia whined. "Don't be such idiota." But shaking her head, she got up and punched his arm hard, blew George a kiss and winked.

He still stared at the Weasley, then huffed. "Look at me when I talk to you!"

"What?", George glared at him as soon as he had looked up. "Yes, yes, you'll rip me into pieces and mutilate me until there's nothing left. I get it, I get it", he continued and turned his head. "Guess what, you, I'm experienced. I'm not scared."

He rolled his eyes and banged the door shut on his way out. Brilliant.

Now the Weasley had even pushed another dark deed he had done years ago – another one he had tried to forget, back to the surface.

* * *

"Yes?", Hermione asked, as she had put the baby back down to his bed.

"We want to move to a safe house. I have a cottage in Cornwall", Millie explained.

Hermione's mouth hung open a moment too long and she shook her head. "Why?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Say, how many NEWTS did you get? Granger, you're really daft."

"You're not the first person to tell me today", she muttered, for her own ears only. "More than you did, Malfoy", she replied testily, loudly. "But you think you will be safer away than here?"

Millie nodded fervently. "It's not just that though, Hermione. It's more that, you know, you and, erm, whatshisname, and Draco and me, well, I think it would be better if we wouldn't live together."

She nodded. Maybe it was better – especially with George in the house. George and Malfoy – probably not the best flatmates.

"Fine", she shrugged. "I'll lower the wards and you can come and go as you please."

"Thank you", Millie smiled. "I can still work for you though."

Hermione nodded and was somewhat surprised that Draco was so quiet. "Actually – I think I'm fine. Not much is happening here and if I need help, I'll find a way to contact you."

"Will you be secret keeper?", Draco blurted.

She looked awestruck. "Erm – erm – yes. If you want me to."

* * *

She sat down and accepted happily the glass of wine that Severus had placed in front of her. Jack was read to by Letitia on the girl's bed and seemed quite content.

"So, yes, they're gone already and it's now just us and George Weasley in the embassy."

He pursed his lips. "He seemed quite adequate at Defence."

"Yes, quite", she agreed, lifted her wand and, unbeknownst to Letitia – who seemed so immersed in the children's book – cast a Muffliato. "Would you move in there with her?"

"No, Hermione. Me being polyjuiced all the time – and her having to take the Make-me-a-squib-potion every day – it would never work."

Hermione laughed. "Make-me-a-squib-potion?"

"Can you think of a better name?", he growled.

"No", she still laughed and bent over the table to plant a soft kiss on his lips. "It's a good name. Needs an abbreviation though. MMASP?"

He raised an eyebrow elegantly. "Not a chance."

He covered her hand on the table with his and watched her as she slowly sipped her wine. It was quite an erotic sight, really – especially the way she licked her lips after she had put the glass down again. "Hermione?", he asked huskily.

"Mh?", she looked up and seemed surprised.

"About Lucius Malfoy...", he began.

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	35. The Plan

_**The usual disclaimers apply.**_

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* * *

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Hermione laughed uproariously, even threw her head back hard.

"You're not serious", she panted between fits of laughter.

And yes, this was the moment that Severus Snape really came back – at least the scowl.

"Of course I'm serious", he replied darkly.

"Baby's Breath. For Lucius Malfoy?", she still laughed. "That is the grand spy's plan?"

He rolled his eyes. "Yes. That is the plan."

She shook her head. "I would have imagined Sectumsempra, Avadas, the full, evil Death Eater works and you want to de-age him?"

"I want to kill him", he looked into her eyes and grabbed her hand over the table. "But it needs to be done quietly – and without a corpse afterwards to dispose of."

"But..."

"Nobody knows me here. I can obtain all the ingredients without raising the slightest hint of suspicion. You invite him for a do at the embassy, your elf slips him the potion..."

"But it smells horrible. I imagine it tastes..."

Once again he rolled his eyes. "It's going to taste like nothing. Am I mistaken or am I still a Potions Master?"

"That depends", she giggled, "if you're Jack Torrance, you're not."

"Hermione", he admonished, "let's play games, shall we?"

"Sorry", she said, stopping her giggles and for a second, watching her son and his almost-adoptive daughter snuggling, dozing on her bed.

"I had thought about a full-blown fight at first, but we need to get him, I need to get him out of the way without anyone noticing it is still me. Hermione, I don't want people to know that I'm still alive."

She nodded slowly. "I know that but...Severus, listen, as you said, you're still a Potions Master. And dying of a Potion?"

"Use your brain. There won't be anything left of Lucius Malfoy after I'm done with him. Yes, it's going to be cruel, and if Harry, erm, Jack, there, could still talk, he would tell you that even for him it was painful, but he will grow younger and younger. Until there is nothing left that's viable."

Her eyes widened suddenly in understanding. "That's positively...barbarous. And disgusting."

"Your point being?", he asked, a steely glint in his eye. Yes – it would be near unbearable to watch – but he would do his best to witness the event. Lucius Malfoy deserved nothing less. Nothing less than a painful, disgusting, cruel, barbarous death. And he would do his damnest to make sure he would suffer beforehand. Somehow.

Severus Snape knew a few spells – untraceable – that would make him drink the Potion for sure – and then, would make the drinking and the death even more horrible.

And even if Draco had gone into hiding – he would come back as soon as he heard his father wasn't there anymore. And yes, there would be articles in the Daily Prophet (he would make sure there were – anonymous owls) and everyone would know that Lucius Malfoy had disappeared – and the fact that nobody would find a body – would – hopefully – cause a few inquiries.

Draco would probably take a while to come out of hiding again – and the he would deal with him. Nothing so severe. He wouldn't hurt the young man – only intimidate and make sure that he was not drifting back to the dark side.

Yes – a good plan. So far.

He smirked.

* * *

It was the first time that Hermione was afraid of the things that Severus Snape was able to do – had been able to do. Well, no, not afraid, exactly, but, surprised at how fast he could change. One minute a loving man, an almost doting father-figure and the next, a cold-blooded killer.

There was this look in his eyes and made her – who had seen a lot during the war – want to crawl in bed and cover herself with tons and tons of blankets. And Hermione Granger was no coward.

She couldn't help but gasp when he smirked as well. Was he the same man who had just minutes earlier kissed her so softly, so gently that she had begun to swoon again?

"What did he so to you?", she asked softly, her voice trembling ever so slightly.

"Excuse me?", he asked, the smirk and glint blown away suddenly.

"Lucius Malfoy? What has he done? You hate his guts. You want him stumped. And I wonder why."

He looked at her – and, in an almost patronising gesture, he stroked her cheek. "It's better for you not to know, Hermione."

She raised her eyebrows disapprovingly. "Tell me, please."

He shook his head again.

"Did he rape you?"

"Hermione", he growled.

"Did he torture you then?"

"Hermione!"

"Make you do those thing?"

"Hermione!"

"Imperiused you?"

He banged his fist on the table and stood up, glowering and fuming. "Stop it!"

She shrugged and lifted her hands in surrender. "Okay okay. Tried to kill you?", she added quietly – a smirk of her own on her face before she stood up and placed herself firmly in front of him, her hands on her hips.

"No more questions", he looked down at her, his nose almost touching hers.

"For now", she conceded and pressed her lips against his for a moment. "No fights, please", she whispered.

He nodded solemnly and she was glad. He understood – the way she was – that she disliked fighting – that she never wanted to let someone go without having to say a proper good bye – that she didn't want to lose people to fights (no matter which kind of fights).

Without her saying anything else, he did the right thing and wrapped her tightly in his arms, kissing her hair and holding her to him. Giving her reassurance. And the man back who was not killing without looking back.

"May I ask one more question?", she asked, her face pressed against his shirt.

"Do I have to answer?"

She shook her head, then hesitantly, she looked up and put her chin against his chest. "Did you ever kill? Apart from..."

* * *

He looked at her for a moment – and he knew that question had to come sooner or later. She was like that, nosy, curious. And of course dying to know why he hated Lucius Malfoy.

"Not directly", he whispered. "Not with my wand. Potions – I brewed poisons that were used."

She seemed calm, no sigh of relief, no pushing him away in disgust. She just tightened her arms around him and he sensed this gesture was all the answer he would get from the usual so outspoken woman.

But – he was wrong. "And you truly want to make your hands dirty with scum like Malfoy?", she asked softly.

Stunned, he was unsure what to reply to that for a moment. "He will not be put away from anyone else", he said gloomily. "The Ministry..."

She nodded and went to say something but he put a finger on her lips and smiled a little. "Why don't you just prepare this do and we'll wait how things unfold, hm?"

* * *

He was right. She would take things the way they'd come. And maybe think of a better way to get rid of Lucius Malfoy. Besides, she needed more information about Shacklebolt and how he played into all that. If she knew that she could trust or distrust the man, it would make things certainly simpler.

Maybe she would have to ask Severus to brew some Veritaserum. Or some other draught to make the Minister say things – even though she knew that getting that into him, was quite unrealistic. He was well protected – Arthur Weasley had said so. Scared of his own shadow by that moment, probably.

But who knew?

Severus was right – she would throw a party – make sure she got more staff than Millie (what was the use of an embassy if it got nothing done?) – get Millie back for that evening only – see how that went – have Severus with her for that occasion – polyjuiced, of course – have Letitia in their flat babysit Jack (she didn't want anyone seeing the resemblance that he had obviously seen).

Yes.

Sitting at home in her bed (she had so wanted to spend the night with him but with Letitia – with Jack there, difficult), she quickly wrote a few notes on muggle paper. Things to be done.

Wrecking her brain if there was another method to get Lucius Malfoy out of the way – and find out if there was anything fishy going on. Best to just get them all in one room.

And that she would.

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	36. The Strange Case of Lucius Malfoy

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The sparring room became so much more quickly. It got a couch, which was enlarged, transfigured, used. They'd usually dual for an hour, then talk and then the talking would move to something more intimate.

Both Severus and Hermione enjoyed that time immensely. Letitia who was minding little Jack and them, quite simply put, happy together.

Yes, that was the word, that was the expression. Against all odds, against all the things against them, George, who was suspicious of Severus/Paolo/Jack (Jack – Jack fading to the background more and more), Draco who accompanied Millie every day to work (Hermione truly wondered why they had moved out after all...) and who also eyed Severus/Paolo/Jack suspiciously and mocked Hermione for her choice of man (a thing that George did as well – especially since he seemed quite bored and Letitia was never in the embassy anymore but instead took Jack around Rome, showed him all the great things (mostly ice-cream), the decision of Hermione's not to treat this job as a retreat and a holiday but to actually do something, met with various Italian wizards and witches of high-standing to organise get-togethers, invited them to the do (which they – meaning Severus and herself – decided would be a simple cocktail party), both of them made time for one another, alone.

It was a week until said cocktail party when they lay in each other's arm, sweaty and sated on the enlarged couch in the sparring room.

* * *

Hermione pushed a strand of hair out of her eyes and looked up at him. She knew that, underneath it all, all the gruffness that he had sometimes, the grumpiness, he had issues, big issues and maybe fear of what was to come. He never showed it openly though – and she had bit her tongue more than once in an effort not to ask him about it again. And he was so – almost obsessed – with the idea of the Baby's Breath – and killing Lucius Malfoy so gruesomely that it had become the only thing – apart from being with her (when he, for the sake of her, she thought refrained from that topic and brewing) that he did. According to Letitia.

He chuckled as he ran a hand over her back. "What're you thinking?"

"Mh?", she asked.

"That little frown-line up here", he brushed his finger over her forehead, "it's a tell that you're thinking too strongly about something."

"Nothing", she smiled, trying to look innocent. Thank God his wand lay somewhere on the floor. She was – only mildly, but still – afraid he would use Legilimency on her. And there were things on her mind that she didn't want him to see.

"Nothing?", he smirked. "I don't believe you."

"It's just something stupid, Severus", she still smiled and pressed a kiss on his collarbone.

"Do I look like a patient person to you?", he asked, touching the tip of her nose with his finger.

She shrugged. "What do you think about children?", she asked softly.

"Children?"

"Mh, little people. Not grown up yet."

"I'm familiar with the terminology and the definition", he sighed.

"Good. So what do you think about them?"

"Not much, usually", he shrugged.

She still smiled at him but it was more a sly smile now. "Well, do you want them?"

He pushed her slightly off himself and sat up. "What are you saying? I have an almost daughter. She's enough...or, are, no. You take the potion. You said so..."

"I'm not pregnant", she said loftily. "But...I thought maybe..."

"Do you want a child?", he asked, fear creeping up on him. He had enough on his hands with Letitia and Jack.

Hermione shrugged. "Maybe not. But I thought..."

He scrutinized the expression she wore on her face. It was almost neutral. Almost. But there was something akin to – determination. It suddenly dawned on him what she was thinking. Bloody Gryffindors. "I will not de-age Lucius to a baby and take him in. I will not bloody raise Lucius Malfoy!", he replied testily and got up, putting on his boxers and trousers immediately. "You can forget about that."

"Don't be cruel, Severus. He will be nothing but a mass of cells when you're done with him..."

"With a little bit of luck not even that", he muttered. He turned towards her. "Why must you always dig? Why can't you just leave it be? He's a horrible person – isn't that reason enough? Is it not enough that he wanted to bring you straight to Him and that he did nothing to make Bellatrix stop from torturing you? Is that not enough? That he almost killed all of you in the Department of Mysteries? Do you still need more? Death would be merciful for him like that. Just being, what did you call it – a mass of cells – would be nice. If there had been any, any kind of justice, he would have been Kissed twenty years ago. There is not, Hermione. Open your eyes. This is not a just world. It's never fair..."

"I know that", she replied angrily. "Don't you think I don't know that?" She got up as well and pushed her top over her head. "But can't you just be happy with the fact that he can maybe be de-aged to a few weeks and then be raised by someone responsible?"

"You and me?", he snorted. "Responsible people?"

She glared at him. "I took care of Jack – without you for a long time."

"Two months tops", he argued. "But that doesn't mean that you can take care of Malfoy."

"Why not? People can change. People are a product of their upbringing. Of their families. He can be a good person – like Harry can be a happy little boy without the pressure of a stupid family who did not care about him in the least, without the pressure of an entire society..."

"Stop!", in two strides he was just in front of her and stared down at her. "Don't speak anymore. I'll do this my way and that means that I will not take him in. I will not even consider taking him in..."

"What about Millie and Draco?", she blurted.

* * *

"It's now or never, pet", he drawled as he slowly clinked with his fingernail against the little glass syringe.

"Lucius?", she slurred.

"It's your own fault, pet, for taking those muggle things", if there was one person who could spit silkily, it would be him – and it almost sounded like that.

"Lucius, what are you doing?", she looked at him with hazy, misty eyes.

"Helping you."

"With what?", she tried to get up from the bed she was lying on but he pushed her back down.

"With this, pet", he smiled slyly and held up the syringe. "It will only take a moment."

"What?", she struggled against his arms that held her down.

"You don't think I will allow you to do the mudblood thing, or do you? I would have never thought you so weak, pet. So weak to resort to something like this. But alas..."

"No!", she screamed. "No!"

"Too late, a moment like this cannot be wasted", he still drawled and quickly, almost painlessly, he pushed the muggle needle into her arm – her vein. "A muggle method. People will never know. Say goodbye, pet."

Her eyes were open wide when she collapsed.

* * *

"It's getting really exhausting", Millie complained, collapsing on the threadbare, old, worn couch in the cottage back in Cornwall.

"I can see clearly now that Granger really wants to make something out of her job", he grinned at her before he took a look in the mirror. Flooing always messed up his hair and something about the way it was right now didn't feel right.

"You're so vain", she giggled and stood up tiredly and moved behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist and putting her cheek on his back.

"Just because of you. Because I want to look good for my girl", he smiled and turned, hugging her tightly and dropping a kiss on her forehead.

"Ah", she clutched her tummy suddenly and darted off.

"Millie? Chubbs?", he asked, following her concernedly to the bathroom where she had run to. He knocked on the door – that she had locked – and stood, waiting, trying not to panic.

"I'm fine, I'm fine", she replied from within and she didn't sound terribly hurt. A bit down, maybe, not hurt.

He slid down the wall and took his face in his hands. He could try and open the door magically – but she wouldn't take that nicely. He would probably have to sleep on the couch if she...oh Merlin. He gasped. Hormones were supposed to make women as weird as Millie had been in the last few days – weeks, maybe. And if she was now darting off to the bathroom – oh Merlin's pants.

"Chubbs?", he asked as she came out of the bathroom only a moment later. "What...?"

She shrugged and slid down the wall to sit next to him. "Just women's things. Aunt Flo, so to speak."

"Aunt Flo?", he asked.

She grimaced. "You know what."

"Oh. Oh. Did you..."

"I thought I might be", she said hollowly. "Well, I don't think it's...your father was probably thorough in what he did."

"Don't call this man my father", he growled but, seeing her distress – her fight to keep her countenance, he wrapped her in his arms and whispered soothingly in her ear.

* * *

There was a knock on the door, suddenly. Letitia wasn't sure who knew where they lived. She had always tried to be careful of the prottetore – that he didn't know where they went. She was looking over her shoulder when she noticed Babbo wasn't doing it and so far, she hadn't noticed anyone following them. But – maybe the locatrice.

She took a look at Jack – who was napping soundly on Babbo's bed (if he knew...- she grinned) – then took a knife that Babbo had left lying there, checked the cauldron in the sink that he had told her to look at occasionally, and went to the door.

Slowly, she opened it a bit and peered out.

"Giorgio!", she cried happily. "Come in."

George Weasley grinned boyishly. "Hey Letitia!", he said softly and his ear – his own ear – had a nice, pink tinge. He stepped into the flat and was astonished at how small it was.

"How...I mean, how did you know where I lived?", she asked, gesturing him towards the chair.

"Erm, I'm a wizard, Lettie. May I call you Lettie?"

She nodded and grinned. "What does it mean, you are wizard?"

"I can find out if I really want to", he stopped when he noticed her shocked expression. "No, no, don't worry. I asked Hermione and the house elf and found it. I only knocked on seven doors before I found you."

"You did?", she smiled shyly and hoped that her blush wasn't too visible.

"I did." His eyes scanned over her and noticed the knife. "Did you...did you want to kill me?"

"Didn't know who was there", she shrugged. "Could be protte..."

"Who?"

"No one", she shook her head vehemently. "Doesn't matter." And she certainly didn't want to him to know about her past. No way.

"So, Lettie – how do you do?", he asked, keeping his eyes on the bubbling cauldron. Standard pewter cauldron. Size three or four though.

"I feel fine", she replied happily. It was nice of him to see her. More than nice, actually. "Giorgio? That's just a potion babbo makes", she shrugged when she noticed him staring at it.

"What does he make?", he asked curiously. "And why in that sink there?"

She laughed and that finally brought his eyes back to her. "Babbo said only fireproof thing in here. Didn't want to risk fire."

"Yes, yes, but what is it?"

Letitia shrugged. "I don't know. Only said it used for...uhm, no. Don't know", she caught herself in time. Nobody was supposed to know about the potion he was brewing for the evil man they wanted to punish. Though Letitia had only heard bits of conversations – had only bits of informations – she had puzzled it together. "Don't know what it is."

He nodded, got up and sniffed at the potion. "Eurgh. Smells like...ick. Reminds me of..."

"Reminds you of?", she asked.

He sighed. "School."

"School? Did you learn to do things like that in school?"

"Sure. And we had this teacher – my – he was horrible. Horrible, I tell you. But we learned a lot. Fred and me...", he hesitated, "we couldn't have done what we have done if he hadn't been taught that much."

"What kind of teacher?", she asked curiously. "And what did he do?"

"Good old Snape", he said – his voice far away. When had been the last time he had spoken of school? "It was Potions, we called it Potions. We learned to brew stuff like this and this teacher we had, Severus Snape", he didn't notice her flinch ever so slightly, "he was the most greasy git you could have met, on the surface not a good person, but he had a way of making you remember things. He scared us all – all of us, even all the seventh years. But he knew what he was doing all the time. All the time", he looked far away, unfocused.

She took the moment he was apparently living in the past to shake her head and try to wrap her mind around what he had said. Babbo – apparently – had been the teacher of Giorgio. And maybe also of Hermione. That would make sense, then. He would have to ask him – but – a teacher and at the same time a spy? What a life.

Her admiration for him grew – in a way.

But – he had a lot of talking to do.

"Giorgio?", she asked carefully and put her hand on his arm. "Are you alright?"

He breathed deeply. "Just thinking. I'm fine. I'm sorry."

She pursed her lips. "No worries. Want to tell me?"

He shook his head. "No. It's okay. It's not important", he looked intently at her. "You were always on my mind, Lettie", he said quietly.

"I was?", she beamed and leaned closer to him.

"Yes. Would you consider going to the embassy thing with me?"

She looked a little sad – and shook her head. "Babbo said I have to mind Jack and the potion he made for me to see embarrassy was completely stucchevole. Erm, disgusting."

His face fell and she giggled. "But any other time, would be glad to go out with you. Tomorrow? Oh no – wait. Not tomorrow. Babbo said he take me to restaurant because of birthday..."

"Tomorrow is your birthday?", he asked.

She nodded happily. Sedici."

"Sixteen?", he grinned. "Good that you told me. Maybe I can...the day after tomorrow?"

She nodded. "Yes, please!"

* * *

"We'll always fight about it, won't we?", she asked as he stood behind her when she read the RSVPs to the cocktail embassy do.

"Yes", he said simply and nuzzled her neck with his nose. Lucky that the embassy was empty and that only she was there – with him.

"He's coming", she pointed at a bit of parchment.

"I wouldn't have thought differently."

She sighed, turned around and hugged him. "Severus?"

"Mh?", he asked, looking deeply into her brown eyes.

"Can't you try and...erm, I don't know, don't look back in anger? You built yourself a new life...with Letitia – maybe with me?"

He breathed deeply and kissed her nose. "I'll try. But – only after he's gone."

She raised her eyebrows and finally managed a smirk. "Fair enough. But knowing me, knowing you, we won't find a consensus on this, will we?"

"Not likely", he chuckled. "But..."

"But?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?", she asked, "I don't believe you."

"Well – knowing me, knowing you, you'll nag so long that I will have no other choice but to modify the bloody potion."

She let out a small shriek of success, but he stopped her by kissing her passionately. When they broke apart – he lifted her up in his arms and still looked in her eyes. "But we haven't finished talking about this. And maybe I can bloody convince you that he deserves a bloody painful, disgusting death."

She shrugged and kissed his lips swiftly. "Maybe. That depends completely on your arguments."

__


	37. Animula

_**The usual disclaimers apply.**_

_**This chapter for evenstar101 – who, mysteriously, found 21 songs in the last chapter and she got granted her wish. I hope you like it!**_

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* * *

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Letitia had said nothing about the fact that Giorgio had seen her – and she had even managed to sneak out of the house (and back in again) without her Babbo noticing. She had told Hermione though (she did need a cover after all – Babbo was a spy after all) that she was meeting a completely innocent boy and officially – only officially – those nights (two in total), she had been out with Giorgio, Hermione was her cover.

And no, he had not tried anything. Besides gently holding her hand on the table or tasting her ice-cream – nothing. He hadn't even hugged her decently. Only those idiotic one-arm-half-hugs. Nothing real.

But she didn't really blame him. He had noticed that she was furtively looking around her, as soon they were in dark alleys.

Babbo was a bit – well, put out was the expression – Letitia thought. Since her alibi was actually working, preparing the party – Hermione couldn't meet him in the evenings and he, well, after a while, he had grown a bit grumpy.

And that was the reason why she had explained Giorgio slowly and with lots of patience, how a mobile phone worked – and why he had bought one. So he could come over that night because she had offered to mind Jack again – so Babbo and his girlfriend could go out. And Giorgio – when the air was clear – could come over as well.

She giggled when her Babbo stood in front of the mirror (as he had done just before their first day) and fidgeted with his shirt. He didn't hide the scars anymore, of course not, since most of the time he was pretending to be Paolo anyway, but tonight, he didn't cover them either.

Letitia smiled at him and Hermione, kissed the baby hello and sprinted with him in her arms to the window – waved at the two of them and as soon as they were out of sight – called Giorgio.

* * *

"Where are we going?", she asked curiously once they got of a bus – he still disliked apparating in the city where he didn't know where they could be seen and he had grown weirdly fond of muggle transport. Especially the bus line 40. Always crowded with tourists to the Vatican – always full of pickpockets and since he was a wizard again – he secretly enjoyed besting those – letting them steal, then returning the stolen goods, purses, wallets, cameras, prontos, to their owners without anyone noticing. Apart from when those dunderheaded muggles were too dumb to hold on to their things – purses hung over shoulders without holding onto them, without caring that something might be stolen. They didn't deserve better.

But as it was a bit later than usual – just after half twelve at night – the number 40 bus was quite empty and he could hold Hermione's hand openly, stand with her in the aisle of the bus (no, it wasn't so empty that they could sit), press up against her occasionally when the driver was making a special dunderheaded thing, let her press up against him.

Yes, he had a special plan.

"I've seen St Peter, dear", she said as she looked out of the window. She had taken to calling him dear in public. Or something similar – nothing too soppy, he wouldn't allow that, but dear was just about as much as he could take. Just because sometimes she was too confused with his names.

He could understand, sort of. Just earlier, he had almost called Jack Harry.

"I know you've seen it, Hermione. We're not going to St Peter", he grinned and took her hand in his. "We're going to see this", she added, pointing at Castel Sant'Angelo.

"But it's...", she frowned, "I mean I've read about it and I've been inside but it's..."

"You did read one of those travel guides, haven't you? Lonely Planet, probably?", he said mockingly.

She nodded, "And a few wizarding books – but there are no wizard's travel guides to Rome."

"Mh", he simply hummed – thinking that maybe this was maybe a thing he could do – when he had the time. Writing a guide. As far as he knew (and he knew a lot), there weren't even guides for the big cities for witches and wizards. He would have to think about it.

"Hey!", she poked him in the ribs. "I can just go home and leave you to have a lovely evening with yourself", she grinned good-naturedly.

"Sorry, Hermione. I was just...", he was afraid of sinking back into his thoughts – his plan almost – when another sharp poke pulled him back into reality. "Anyway, you're quite right. This is Castel Sant'Angelo. But what you don't know is that here used to be", he pointed at the large, round building, "the old Animula, the little soul, of Rome."

"I don't..."

"Hermione", he began, his voice slipping into old teacher's mode. "Rome – as London, or Paris, Berlin, or Prague, has a large wizarding community."

"I know that", she replied, rolling her eyes.

"Yes, yes, of course", he rolled his eyes in return at her, "but here, other than in London, Paris, Berlin or Prague, were the wizards and witches before the muggles."

"I knew that too", she shrugged. "It's actually one of the rare cases..."

"Alright", he interrupted her. "Then what significance is the Animula?"

"I don't know", she looked at him with a hint of annoyance on her face.

"Good", he grinned and took her hand. Careful of the many tourists and Romans that were still around the Castel Sant'Angelo, he lead her to the part of the building facing away from the Tiber. He smiled.

"I have no idea why this place isn't known anymore", he muttered as he looked around, tapped his wand against four, five or seven bricks in rapid concession – too fast for her to follow and spoke softly. "Virtus fluminum et animulae ingressum permitte. Genus magicum summus. Non maledicemus. Virtus fluminum et animulae ingressum permitte. Orabimus bene faciemus. Virtus fluminum et animulae ingressum permitte."

She stared wide-eyed as a small portion of the bricks – much as it did in the Leaky Cauldron – simply rearranged themselves and allowed them a tiny, small entrance that lead to a narrow, steep stairway.

"Just one word before we go in, Hermione, you can ask all the questions later, alright?"

She nodded and he continued, "This is a sacrarium. A place of prayer for the Roman wizards and witches that unluckily fell in disuse when the original Animula was found and destroyed – well, not destroyed but put in a museum by muggles. They put it in a museum until the wizards came and her away again. It was just a small stone statue of what the Romans consider their, inverted commas, please, God. Much like we would use Merlin – or have used. She, an allegory, of course, not an actual witch, was called Animula. Little soul. They worshipped her and few of the older generation still do. As she was here until after the popes took hold of this building, and she was placed here for a reason – there are still worshippers, old women, old man, who pray to her. But she herself is not there anymore. It's a sacred place."

She nodded again and solemnly took the first step downwards. He followed quickly, glad that the stairs were still illuminated by thousands and thousands of candles.

* * *

It was a rotund room – smallish – maybe twenty people could get in there, maybe thirty. Definitely not more. In the middle of the room – a pedestal, similar to those that usually statues stood on but it was empty. No statue, nothing.

She gasped when she saw the wall – illuminated by more and more candles that floated up in the air. Bright coloured frescoes of apparently Roman wizardkind and their history – Animula always floating above them, her hands outstretched, in her left a small flame of fire, in her right a dagger-like thing. She made a mental note to ask Severus about that later. It smelled like a wine-cellar, she thought. Old but not mouldy. Chilly but not cold and there was a sound – a sound like water rushing past.

She looked behind her to tug on his hand when she saw a tiny figure on the fresco, with something akin of a wand in her hand while the rest carried nothing but those dagger-like things and noticed, with a overwhelming feeling of – what? – that he had his right hand up on the pedestal, his left limply by his side, his face towards the earth, his eyes closed and suddenly, an old witch at the other side of the room.

She breathed deeply – and subconsciously – her hand gripped her wand inside the other sleeve of her cardigan when she saw the woman approaching her and Severus. But she smiled and her eyes twinkled.

"Bona fortuna", she croaked and placed a hand on Hermione's upper chest, then on Severus' (standing on her tiptoes).

First, Hermione felt nothing – then a warmth spreading from the place the old witch had touched – why had she allowed her to touch her anyway? But Severus had done the same and he actually smiled at her.

"Ne eum exstinguite", she continued softly and shook her head. "Familia rutila eum capiet", she winked and within a second, she was gone.

Hermione stared at Severus. Her Latin was – well, not that good. She had understood parts but not everything. He took her hand and with a little questioning nod towards the stairs, they were on their way up again.

Breathing deeply once they were back in the open, she shook her head. "What was that?"

Severus pursed his lips and tapped against them with a finger. "I don't know."

"What did she say? I only got the good luck in the beginning and then something about a family or other."

"She said", he breathed, "Don't kill him, squash him, whichever word you want to use, the red-blonde family will take him."

"What?", she shook her head again. "Don't ki...oh dear", she gasped and grasped his hand tighter. "Does that mean...?"

"Your guess is as good as mine. But I think her words were clear."

"Red-blonde family?", she asked.

"Could either mean a reddish-blonde family – hair-colour wise, or, erm, William Weasley and his wife. I think", he trailed off. "No."

"Millie has brown hair", she said breathlessly, "but maybe she'd dyed it."

He shook his head, pressed his fingers against his temples and sighed, letting Hermione lean against him.

"That was a bit creepy", she said softly. "And how long have we been in there?", she continued to ask, looking around her.

"About an hour, I'd say", he answered. "Does this mean that..."

"You're not allowed to kill him, Severus", as the tourists were mostly gone, she had no qualms about using his real name. "Don't you see? Animula? It's the diminutive of anima. Whatever that woman knows – she probably just doesn't want your soul...you know."

He rolled his eyes. "I don't believe in prophecies."

"It was a sacred place, you said so yourself", she said with an air of finality. "The only question is – have you recalculated the amount of potion..."

"I have", he said gruffly, "according to my results, he will be between 2 and 4 weeks old."

"And the...?"

"All according to plan", he allowed himself a smirk.

* * *

No, he had planned to re-recalculate the dose for the potion – one night away. Two nights away – only two nights. But down there, down in the Locus Animulae, he had felt the tingle of magic when the witch had touched him. Nothing huge – only a tingle, really, a warmth. And it hadn't been the first time something like this had happened to him down there.

What Hermione didn't know – and what he would never tell her – was, that according to legend, the room, the place, that sacred place – had the power to soothe your soul, maybe even heal it. And he had gone there – the first chance he had gotten after he had turned spy. And then, once more, after he had had to kill Dumbledore. Now this. It was – it was simply weird. But a good weird. Strange, but a good strange.

No recalculating. And finding a way to place Lucius Malfoy – under another name – with an entire wholesome family. He could do that.

He breathed deeply – twice – and smiled at her. "This wasn't expected, Hermione", he whispered in her ear, "especially since I have other plans for this night."

"Really?", she looked at him in astonishment, "I thought this was quite spectacular already."

He chuckled and pulled her towards the Ponte Sant'Angelo. "Oh no, this is just the beginning."

* * *

They strolled slowly across the bridge – it was almost empty and barely lit – with just enough light to make out the angels on either side of the bridge. Both enjoyed it – especially since Hermione made it a point to steal a kiss from Severus underneath every single of the ten marble angels.

She giggled when he breathed a sigh of relief as soon as they had reached the end of the bridge and looked back at it. Hermione, however, sneaked in front of him and his arm around her waist, both looking towards the bridge and Castel Sant'Angelo.

"It's beautiful", she said softly.

"It is", he agreed and for a moment, they fell in complete silence.

"But the Animula, she was there before Hadrian built this mausoleum, wasn't it?", she asked suddenly.

He nodded, his chin on top of her head. "It was. But since it's underground – I guess nobody knew it was there until the archaeologists started digging."

"Couldn't they have prevented it from being found?", she asked curiously.

"That is one of the mysteries of the Animula", he explained, "the room itself was never found – if it had been, it would probably be in a museum right now. Literature says that the statue, and mind, it's only about 20 centimetres high, was just in lying in the mud."

"Curious", she replied pensively, "but the wizards got it back?"

"I'm sure you've seen her. She now resides over the Italian Ministry. It's the little..."

"Little statue in their entrance hall. But nobody pays it any mind..."

He shook his head sadly. "A lot of the old traditions are lost, Hermione. Here, in England, everywhere. It's a part of life, I guess."

"But you honour them?", she asked quietly.

"I do honour some of them. I found the Animula always – I don't know", he broke off and as she turned around, she saw him looking a bit lost.

"I understand", she whispered and hugged him tightly.

* * *

"What now?", she asked as it was the middle of the night – at around 3 – when they stood on an empty piazza. Severus had accioed a flask of hot coffee and a flask from his flat (and she hadn't known he could accio through such distances) and another flask – which, as she noted a bit later, contained good old Scottish firewhiskey and they had talked all the time - about the cocktail party, Rome, life back in England when they sat on the stairs to a building and drank the coffee together.

"Now, we wait", he said quietly, flinging his arms around her.

"What for?"

"You'll see, Hermione", he chuckled. "Always curious, always curious."

"Of course I am", she grinned. "That's why you lo...nevermind." She was glad it was dark – blushing was not becoming.

"Mh", he grinned. "Yes."

She fell silent. Granted, Jack Torrance had admitted to falling in love with her – but right now – and in the last weeks – months – she had seen so many different sides to Severus/Jack that she wasn't sure anymore which one was which and which had meant what which had said. But this - almost admission - made her heart beat a bit quicker.

He nuzzled her neck and her ear and hummed a soft melody – which, she couldn't say. For a moment, it was getting too intense for her, dark, him, still not cold, despite the late, or early hour – and the fact that the sun would be rising within 1 or 2 hours.

"Severus?", she asked softly, turning in his arms and facing him.

"Yes, Hermione?"

"I saw daggers, or dagger-like things down there in the..."

"I've wondered when you'd ask", he chuckled, "it was their version of a wand."

"Wand?"

"Wand, yes. They chose the dagger, or dagger-like thing, as you called it, because it's got many other properties. An all-in-one-tool, so to speak."

"What?", she laughed.

"Well, the Romans were great potion-makers and with the dagger, they harvested many things, plus if there was a one on one fight, they could defend themselves this way as well. To not only rely on their magic but also to just, you know, slit someone's throat."

"That's disgusting", she frowned.

As an answer, he simply, merely chuckled and pulled her on his lap. "Maybe."

* * *

"What is this place here anyway?", she asked again when there was a single, three-wheeled car driving on it.

"Campo del Fiori", he answered. "Market."

"Market?", she faced him again and her eyes lit.

"Yes", he grinned. "I know you like them and it's best early in the mornings."

"I stayed up all night for a market?", she asked – and tried her best to make her voice sound mock-offended.

"Absolutely", he still grinned.

"Oh", was all she could say and then captured his lips with hers – kissing him deeply, gratefully.

* * *

As all those who came to sell something on the Campo slowly began to unpack their groceries, their fruit and vegetables, Hermione contemplated what a singularly amazing night that had been.

Not only had she seen a completely new side of Severus – praying for the wholeness of his soul, deep in prayer – but she had also learned something new about beliefs, about herself and about Rome.

She understood why he had taken her to all the places – why he had done all that. Or she thought she did. He wanted to share. Quite simply share with her.

She snuggled up closer to him, a magically still warm mug of coffee in her hands, and vowed to the Animula, quite solemnly, quite honestly, quite quietly, that she would do everything in her power to hang onto this man.

__


	38. The Party I

_**The usual disclaimers apply.**_

_**Dedicated to its zabini not zambini, catgurl83 and wickedwench1. List of my song titles at the end of the chapter.**_

_**

* * *

**_

He was a meticulous man in everything he did. He double-checked everything – whether the stove was out, the lights out when they left. Back when he had made potions for almost a living, he had always checked twice, three times, if he had the right ingredients, had prepared them correctly – even if he knew the potion inside out.

Baby's Breath was one potion he had only made once – during his apprenticeship. Only once and he wasn't sure whether he had it right. Of course it was the exact smell, colour and texture described in the book – but other than that – he wasn't sure if it had the planned outcome. And he couldn't be sure.

Of course he had tested it – on a poor spider Letitia was scared of that he had found in the bathroom (again) – but he wasn't that specifically informed about the growing stages of spiders that he could precisely pinpoint how old the spider really was. But – the best thing – it was alive. Smaller – and alive.

That would have to do.

He checked on Letitia playing with Jack (Hermione had dropped him earlier), kissed the girl's, then the boy's head and, checking that the Baby's Breath was in his pocket and the Polyjuice in another (as well as some antidote to the Polyjuice – a relatively new potion he had developed just before he had left the wizarding world – and that he had tested on himself) and left the flat.

He knew exactly what had to be done. He knew that it could probably be dangerous for him – but not if everything went according to plan. And it would.

Chucking the first dose of Polyjuice, he rounded the corner to the embassy and his heart stopped for a moment. Of course now was the moment that he was entering the building. He, blonde hair, arrogance radiating off him (almost, in a perverse universe – like a halo), the most expensive robes, and the cane – cane.

He – Severus Snape, the man who had stood up to He-who-must-not-be-named – took a deep breath and allowed his Occlumency-shields to come way up high. Doing it for the first time in three and a half years – it was, he found out, like riding a bicycle (and yes, he had learned to ride a bike as a child – and found he could still do it close to forty in France when he had first left England) and almost, well, almost natural. No, quite natural.

He nodded to himself and strode towards the entrance. Sure he wasn't walking like Severus Snape.

* * *

Hermione found out that being a hostess was fun – and then not. Greeting the Roman wizards had been simple (especially since her two words of Italian were highly appreciated and praised), greeting the few English wizards wasn't. Seeing Millie disappear discreetly through the Floo when Kingsley Shacklebolt arrived was – strange but understood. But it left her dealing with most of the work – not that there was much except to mingle. She had found elf-reinforcements, Toffee's sister and brother and mother and father and three or four cousins, who all worked for the Ministry had been brought in – and they dealt with the food and the drinks.

And yet, talking to the Minister was the first test for her – and Severus, or rather Jack Torrance, as she should say – wasn't even there yet. Damn Minister for arriving early.

She did small-talk with him, introducing him to the Head of the Wizarding Hospital in Rome (Santa Binginia), introducing him to the Head of the Italian version of the auror department (seriti, as she learned) and then getting away from them only to be talked to by an English wizard named Mel Bonthought, who wanted to know what she did all day long, being joined by Marcus Flint, who was now Captain of the English Quidditch team.

Her breath caught in her throat when Toffee (earning a slight kick) let Lucius Malfoy in. He oozed arrogance and superiority and she felt as if she could smell his overshadowing aftershave from where she was standing.

And yet – she knew what she had to do. He probably still thought that Millie and Draco were here as well – no such luck for him.

She put on her professional face – tried to pull up her Occlumency shields (quite successfully) and strode towards him.

"Mister Malfoy", she lifted her hand for him to take but he merely looked down at it with a sort of disgust on his face.

"Miss Granger", he drawled and apparently he already scanned the room for – Merlin only knew what or who (well, actually, that wasn't such a difficult puzzle).

"A drink?", she asked politely.

He snorted and brushed past her without looking at her once.

"Okay", she said to herself, "how nice."

"How nice what?", Severus/Jack asked – standing suddenly behind her.

"Oh", she gasped, "you scared me."

He grinned at her and took her hand for a second, squeezing it before he simply nodded – politely – and left her standing there. Her job – for the moment – was done. All she could do now was watch – watch and see the things unfold. Then it was her turn again.

If – and only if – things went according to plan.

* * *

Nobody knew his wand – nobody knew his face. Nobody knew his name. He was safe. There wasn't a single soul in this room who could find out that it was him.

He was safe.

He was safe.

Breathing deeply, he made his way straight to – the first house elf with a tray, picking up a non-alcoholic drink. He needed a clear head to go through with everything.

And he needed to get some time, let some time pass.

Weasley – the idiot boy who had made passes at Letitia – was coming straight towards him.

"How's your daughter?", he asked calmly.

"None of your business", he growled, then turned his back.

* * *

George grinned. Torrance had seen him – and now he could leave. Nobody needed him at this stupid party anyway and being with Letitia – and the little one – was so much better. He basically tip-toed into the kitchen, then outside, before he apparated straight to the man and Letitia's flat.

* * *

An hour passed – he didn't talk to many people, merely observed and watched with disgust as apparently Lucius had a vivid chat with the Minister. Stupid man – well, stupid men, actually. Both of them thought probably that they were having the upper hand in their little, dangerous game. Kingsley knew there were only two or three aurors around (yes, Severus had done his homework with a lot of newspapers and Hermione's help), and two or three of those that did the same job in Italy. Not enough for a powerful wizard like Malfoy – not if they didn't know his weaknesses.

And Malfoy – he had no other agenda than to climb on his ladder of power. And that – well, he was doing it well – or at least it appeared to be. One was never sure with Malfoy and Kingsley.

He scanned the room. Hermione was, more or less comfortably, talking to an elder witch and that was the only sign he needed – to have her safe and out of the firing line.

He strode (a little like Severus Snape – just a little) towards where Malfoy had just sneered at one of Kingsley's comments and had – coincidentally – turned his back to the Minister.

His chance.

"Lucius Malfoy?", he asked – remaining cool and calm and collected – and all of a sudden – when the blonde's hard gaze tried to pierce him – he had the old feeling in himself. The knowledge that there would be a fight – and that he would, eventually, hopefully, succeed. If he remained himself.

"Yes?", he drawled.

"I heard so much about you and when the Mud...erm, Miss Granger, sent me the invitation, I really hoped that I could meet you here."

"You are?", he asked – and as planned, it seemed his curiosity (outwards – not visible – but Severus had known him a long time and he could always tell) was spiked.

"Jack Torrance", he extended his hand and Lucius Malfoy immediately took it. "Pleased to meet you."

"The same, I am sure."

Severus grinned. He had him. "I heard, rumours, that you were – trying to go back to the old ways?"

"Excuse me?"

"I was forced out of England by the law – just before He vanished", Severus/Jack explained, quietly.

Lucius raised an eyebrow – only a little but enough for him to see, "Do you think there's somewhere we can talk in private?"

Severus nodded quickly, seemingly uninterested and walked towards their sparring room.

* * *

Apparently it went according to plan. Apparently it had all worked. Her fingernails dug into the palms of her hands and her other hand clutched the glass she was holding tightly. Poor Flavia Ferrero – she wasn't listening to the witch at all.

Hermione Granger crossed her fingers, her toes and everything else crossable. It just had to work out fine.

_**

* * *

**_

_**Okay, here's the list of songs that I had used. I'm well aware that there are more but those are the ones I had really intended:**_

_**Happy together**_

_**Don't be cruel**_

_**Don't speak**_

_**It's now or never**_

_**I feel fine**_

_**My girl**_

_**Somethin' Stupid**_

_**I can see clearly now**_

_**You're so vain**_

_**My way**_

_**Against all odds**_

_**Always on my mind**_

_**A moment like this**_

_**Underneath it all**_

_**Because of you**_

_**Don't look back in anger**_

_**Knowing me, knowing you**_

_**With a little bit of luck**_

_**Open your eyes**_


	39. The Party II

_**The usual disclaimers apply.**_

_**

* * *

**_

The little one was safely tucked into her babbo's bed and she sat with Giorgio on the other. She was glad that babbo had finally allowed her a television and she had it running – it was just some background noise, really, some entertainment, as she was fully concentrated on him (and he, it seemed, on her, even though he had been quite fascinated by the telly the first time he had been with her in the flat), sitting opposite him, with her legs crossed.

He never touched her – not really – and when he did, it was accidental. A brush of his hand against hers – that was all. And she really disliked that. But he, that idiot, was so honourable. And madonna, they had been out for a while – it was high time, she thought, that they at least started holding hands or something. Or she would be beginning to think that he wasn't interested at all.

She rolled her eyes inwardly when he fell silent again and was just staring at her.

"Do I have something on my face?", she asked – and laughed.

He shook his head – his ear having that nice pink tinge she loved to see so much. "You're just beautiful", he whispered croakily.

She still laughed – that was her plan – and bent forward slightly. Taking his hand in this forward motion, she had no intention of letting it go quickly and when she looked at him again, smiling, the pink had gotten pinker but he grinned from one ear to the other. Even if it was not a real ear.

* * *

Severus smirked. His timing, as so often, was perfect. He noticed – with no little smugness – that the Polyjuice was just wearing off. That he had two minutes to disarm Lucius Malfoy and put him somewhere he couldn't get away this easily.

"So...", he started – drawling just after he had sealed the room, warded it heavily. "I hear you're trying to take the place of the Dark Lord?"

He conjured two chairs and sat down in one – motioning Lucius to take a seat as well.

Not exactly", the blonde replied coldly, "but I want to make sure the old ways are not forgotten."

"I see", Severus smiled wickedly and non-verbally, wandlessly, summoned Lucius cane. It was easier, a lot easier than expected. "You know what your problem was?", he asked, tying him to the chair and, for good measure, petrifying him in almost one go – before he could even react.

"What the?", he yelled from the chair and tried wandlessly to set himself free but Severus was stronger.

"Your problem, Lucius", he snarled the name, "was that you were always to arrogant. You always thought yourself invincible. You got away too easily every time. Not this time..."

"Who are you?", he sounded like a wounded animal almost. Not scared – merely very angry.

"Who am I? Your worst nightmare, Lucius", he pulled the wand from the cane and pointed it with his left hand at Malfoy, and with his right, pointed his own wand at him. "And you're talking way too much", he added before he cast a Silencing Charm and another layer of constraints around the man.

"Now", he smirked, "you will see who I am and why I am here and you're there."

Granted, the transformation from Paolo to Severus was not a painless one but since he used a little dried rose-thorn in the potion – it was getting better. And was faster. He stood proudly in front of him bound in the chair and smirked. "Recognize me? My nose is different – yes, Lucius – and my hair, but it's still me. Remember me, Lucius?", he knew his voice had a lunatic edge.

But he didn't care.

This man deserved all that was coming.

And a look of recognition passed over the blonde's face and his eyes widened considerably.

He twirled Malfoy's wand between his fingers and grinned. "Oh, did someone forget to tell you that Severus Snape is still alive? Oh right – yes, people don't know. You should have known, Lucius. _Your old friend_ Severus knew that the snake was always dangerous. And _your old friend_ Severus took precautions because he knew he would not get out of it unscathed as you would. As your son would. Your wife. Though I hear she was found dead", he raised his eyebrows, "it's so simple to kill a person if you know their weaknesses, isn't it? If they're addicted to drugs – just feed them too many. Isn't that right, Lucius? Beautiful, depressed Narcissa who never got over the fact that you started hating Draco because he was with the other spy – the one who always almost resurrected those that you have tortured. But you really killed your wife, didn't you? I always thought you liked her – or at least tolerated her. You, much like your Lord, are incapable of love of any way."

He shot a slight stinging hex towards his nemesis. Then, when he didn't notice even a grimace, he shot another, stronger, but – he only saw revulsion. "You're trying to get out of this? By being strong? Pretending to be? Lucius, let me assure you – you will not get out of this room."

There was nothing in his face – nothing.

So Severus shrugged – and stunned the man. "No, you will not get out", he said softly, and pulled a hair from the man's head. He needed to make sure that everyone thought he was leaving and went to England again. He added it to the blank-polyjuice and drank it down – revolted by the taste.

He waited a minute, added another chain, another layer of stunning and strode – as Lucius Malfoy would – out of the room, warding it again with his own wand. He put the other man's in the cane, his in a fold of the robes and set his – Lucius Malfoy's – face in a sneering, arrogant mask.

In the middle of the foyer of the embassy – still full of people (though he noted some had left) – he announced, loud and clear, "This is not as useful as I thought", and left immediately – knowing that everyone was watching him.

* * *

So all was going according to plan. She breathed a sigh of relief – it was Severus there – saying the exact words he had said he would and making this little flip with the hair that he said he would. And did the little sign with his hand he said he would do.

She hid a little smile behind her glass of sparkling water and did her best not to jump for joy. The rest would go swimmingly – she just knew it.

* * *

He looked down at the girl – and she was a girl – leaning against his shoulder, sleeping soundly. He wondered if he should leave now – let her sleep and he considered tucking her in, kissing her forehead and just going but somehow, the muggle box with the moving pictures in the dark room made him stay a bit longer. He didn't understand a single word they were saying (seeing that they were talking in Italian) but it was fun seeing the man walking barefoot through glass and chasing someone up and down a huge building, shooting wherever he went. And somehow, he was happy that he was a wizard.

* * *

He apparated into the backyard of the embassy – having taken the Re-Polyjuice (and that stuff really was disgusting) and proceeded, unseen by anyone but Toffee, back to the sparring room. In his own body.

Yes, he was still there, out cold. Maybe he had been a bit forceful with the Stunners. Maybe.

He grinned. "Ennervate."

"Snape you bloody..."

"Enough talk, Malfoy", Severus snarled and silenced him again. "Back to where I was. Everyone out there things you've gone home. Everybody saw me, in my other form, entering this room with you and people only saw you coming out. Shouting at the top of your voice that this wasn't what you expected. People know about you, Lucius. And they will believe if someday, you disappear. Quite soon, actually. From the face of the earth. And your wand will be found by innocent muggles somewhere in England. But you won't be found. Never found", he smirked evilly.

"Now, in the next hour or so, you will, I'll promise you, you will relive some of the things that you did to other people. People you called your friends. But you're not going to die. Even though you might want to beg for it. And I will use your wand."

He pointed it at him. "Remember the first night that I became a Death Eater, Malfoy? I do. I will never forget the induction ceremony. But my guess is that you have. You have tortured so many new Death Eaters in the years – that you will have probably forgotten all about it.

* * *

And by now, he was fearing for his life. Severus Snape had apparently snapped – had lost his mind and was almost as mad as his sister-in-law Bellatrix had been. And he knew that once Severus Snape had that look on his face – that he meant business. And he couldn't even talk himself out of it. He could open his mouth but there was no sound.

And he certainly wouldn't give him the pleasure of showing him that he was scared.

* * *

He wasn't even grimacing. And he knew that hex was painful, very painful. And it left you trembling for at least an hour afterwards. Not the nasty shocks after a Cruciatus, but a trembling in the hands and feet. Not that Lucius cared – he sat down anyway and Severus knew that he wouldn't show him any signs of weakness. He wouldn't have to. Lucius had a tell-tale sign.

Poor left eyebrow was twitching.

"More, Lucius?", he asked softly. "Yes?", he twirled the man's wand between his fingers again. "What now? Ah – the night before I left to spy for Dumbledore. The night that you went to that muggle house because your Dark Lord wouldn't let you do anything else. Because back then, you were out of grace because little Draco for a while was more important and you, celebrating yourself for managing to produce an heir with the first shot. He disliked that, Lucius. Probably if that hadn't happened, you would have been with him at the Potters – though I doubt that. But yes, the muggle house. Empty, wasn't it? And you took it out on us. Me, Nott, Willowly, the new one. Just because we were there and those muggles weren't. Dilacerate!", he cried the last bit.

Mild version of the Cruciatus curse – but effective since the nose started bleeding after a few minutes.

* * *

"Good bye, Minister", she shook his hand.

"It was a nice party, Hermione. I think it's great what you're doing here", he smiled, "and I'm sure to come by soon."

She nodded and as soon as he was out of the door, she breathed a sigh of relief. Everybody gone. Finally. She ran upstairs to her room, shed her robes and changed as quick as she could into jeans and a simple t-shirt before she headed to the sparring room – merely hoping that he hadn't killed Lucius Malfoy yet.

Hermione rushed down and undid the wards on the room. There was an extra one on it – but he had taught her this one. It was simple yet effective and she had undone it in barely a second. She pushed the door open and remained standing with a gasp.

* * *

"Why was it always during the nights, Lucius? I sometimes wondered if you had a kind of Jekyll/Hyde personality, really. I mean the _loving_ father and husband during the day, the man who sucked up to everyone in the Ministry and during the nights you were the cruel man – the man who raped and had to almost strangle the women to be able to orgasm. Or were you just trying out the power you had in different ways? During days ordering Draco and Narcissa around and during nights, torturing your _friends_? You pay everything back now", he said menacingly and once more, lifted the other man's wand. "One night, Lucius", he poked him with the wand – wondering if he had passed out already, "one night you overdid it. Just before your debacle at the Ministry. You crucioed a lot of people that night – all in their masks. Under the ever watchful eye of your Dark Lord. And he let you do it. I could have taken you down, make no mistake, but not with him there. You knew that, didn't you? He's not here – I'm here and you're here. And your wand is here."

He took a deep breath. It had been a while since he had cast that curse. And with Hermione and her incessant nagging about not killing Lucius, making him a better man, he wasn't even sure if he could pull it off – especially since he already hung limply in the chair, bleeding from the nose and the lips. But he remembered all the times he had been tortured by this man – without being able to defend himself.

"Cru..."

"Severus, no!", she yelled and was by his side in a second. "Don't."

"Hermione", he growled at her, "let me finish this."

"He's bleeding", she shook his head and gently put her hand on his – lowering the wand slowly. "Do you think it's nice to have a hurting, shivering, bleeding baby? He will not be able to talk when he's so little and he will cry all night long", she added – whispering and leaning ever so slightly against him.

He breathed deeply and turned to look at her. He swallowed. "I will never understand the power you have over me", he shook his head again and pointed his wand at him again.

"What are you doing?", she glared at Severus angrily.

"Ennervate", he shrugged.

"Why?"

"Why?"

"Yes, why? Give him the damn potion, then ennervate him", she argued.

"Have you read up on the potion?"

"Yes. Have you? It takes five minutes to take effect, until then, he's an adult. It takes another five minutes to de-age him – then he's a baby. There's nothing you can do in the five minutes before he's de-aged that will undo it or risk it. Harry had a Martini just before he did it. Nothing happened then. So you can give him the potion in this state, and give him then healing potions and maybe ennervate him", she explained.

He groaned. "You read up on everything."

"Most things", she smirked and winked. "Come on. Just do it."

He swallowed, but took the potions from his robes and walked towards him. "I don't know why he's given a second chance."

"You did", she grinned and followed him, watching him as he tipped the man's head back – tipping the potion into his mouth and seeing – with a determined expression on his face – how Lucius swallowed reflexively.

"I did?", Severus asked, stepping away again.

"You did", she grinned and pushed herself up on her toes to kiss him.

* * *

"I don't know why I have to carry a newborn", he muttered – somehow satisfied that his potion had worked precisely how he planned it. "Or why we have to bring him here. Why I have to watch him."

"Because I can't keep him in the embassy. It would be insane to keep him there."

"And I have to mind Lucius Malfoy", he grumbled.

"We need a new name", she said softly, looking at the sleeping baby in his arms. He didn't look like Malfoy at all – his eyes were already blueish-brown, his hair a darker, dirtier shade of blonde.

"A muggle name. Tom."

"Not Tom", she glared. "An Italian name. Someone we found."

"We're not keeping him", he hissed. "I hope you know that."

"I'll figure it out, okay? Just give me a day or two."

He rolled his eyes. "Mattia."

"Mattia? Isn't that a girl's name?"

He chuckled. "Letitia's only male teacher in her school is called Mattia."

"Fine", she shrugged and stopped him with her hand on his arm. She peeked into the bundle of blankets they had wrapped him in (after watching him, well, him watching, her hiding her face in his robes) being de-aged and after healing him and ennervating him) and smiled. "Ciao Mattia."

He rolled his eyes. "The key's in the right pocket of my trousers."

She laughed softly, wrapped her arm around him and took them – unlocking the door to the building. "What will you tell Letitia?"

"She knows about it", he said simply.

"You told her?"

"I like being honest to her. I don't believe in secrets anymore", he said quietly and pushed the door to his flat open with his foot after she had unlocked the door.

"What's that?", he thundered when he found his almost-daughter and George Weasley of all people asleep together on her bed.

__


	40. Revelations

_**The usual disclaimers apply. **_

_**Sorry for any typos or grammatical errors (did I mention that I'm not a native speaker of English?)**_

_**

* * *

**_

His arm was around her and he felt her back pressed against his chest tightly. Surely a dream. A very, very good dream and one that someone had every intention of disturbing. And waking him. With a scream.

It was a moment before he realized that Letitia had really slept in his arms – and he with her arm across his chest but by then, he was already standing still with his wand in his hand, pointed at the direction of the person pulling him out of the best sleep he had had since the beginning of the war.

"What in the name of Merlin's baggy..."

"You better not finish the sentence", the disturber shouted and shoved a white, small bundle in the arms of a women who was standing behind him. "Take him", he growled and somehow, George knew that voice.

"Who are you?", George asked, his wand still pointed as he listened with a quarter ear how Letitia behind him groaned and got up.

"Stop it", Hermione stood behind the two man with the bundle – George saw it was a baby wrapped in tons of blankets but his mind couldn't really process that information yet.

"He deserves it, Hermione", the man snarled at her and with his free hand, he pushed Hermione away – Hermione?

"Hermione?", George asked, still in his fighting stance but his mind was whirling – a man – a voice – Hermione – a baby – Letitia behind him, pressing herself against his back suddenly.

"Letitia, back", the man commanded and in that moment, something snapped inside of George's braincells.

"Professor Snape", he gasped, mouth and eyes wide open. "You're alive."

"Very much so", he sneered, unimpressed by his discovery. "Letitia!"

She growled behind him. "Babbo, you will not hurt Giorgio."

"Hermione, get her away from him", he continued, never keeping his eyes from George.

"Professor Snape. You're dead. Everybody said so. You were made a hero. You are dead. Letitia's father is Jack Torrance", he babbled, his wand slowly sinking.

"Babbo!", Letitia screeched at the same time that Hermione shouted angrily: "Severus!", as he cast the first curse at George Weasley.

* * *

It wouldn't hurt too much – boils never did. Unfortunately, the Weasley boy had somehow regained full consciousness and shot a hex back – his sister's signature hex. He was quick enough (after all that sparring with Hermione) to bring his shield up and hexed back – the exact same hex and, who knew, bat bogeys were attacking Weasley.

"Oh for heaven's sake", he heard Hermione mutter and knew, a split second too late that this wasn't a good sign. He was just about to jinx the man again, when he couldn't lift his arm anymore.

"Hermione!", he snapped.

"No, you and George will stop that."

"Too right", Letitia nodded and at the moment, she was sitting on the bed next to Jack, soothing him by rubbing his back with one hand and in her arm, she had the former Lucius Malfoy. Hermione stood with one hand on her hip, the other held her wand high.

She glared first at him, then at Weasley. "You can duel all you want later but now we have a more severe problem."

"You really are Severus Snape?", George Weasley asked incredulously.

"It would seem that way. How quick your brain works", he sneered. He tried – despite the full body bind to lift his hand with the wand – to hex him, obliviate him. Something. Hermione had to see – she just had to – that him knowing couldn't be good. All the Weasleys would know. And if they did – the entire wizarding world. He glared at the boy – young man and he, surprisingly, glared back.

"I'll get you back for that ear", he hissed.

"He took your ear?", Letitia asked, getting up with the baby in her arms and stood next to Hermione.

"He did", George replied angrily. "Hermione stop that damned body bind."

"You will not swear in front of my daughter. You will not see my daughter again", Severus' voice dropped – his teacher's voice. The evil git's voice.

Hermione groaned.

* * *

"Silencio", she said quietly and suddenly, there was only her breathing, Letitia's gasp and the soft mewling of Jack. "Good."

She levitated both man into chairs and then, in front of her. "You will listen."

Letitia giggled softly behind her – and suddenly, she was next to her. "That was amazing!"

"Thank you", she grinned at the girl, then looked quickly over her shoulder. Mattia and Jack were both on the bed and she secured the bed – Severus' bed – with a few bars. She didn't want the boys to fall from it.

"Now", she looked at both men sternly. "George, yes, this is Severus Snape, but I swear to everything that's holy that I will personally hex you into the next millennium if you dare to utter one word about this to anyone. And I will not stand between you and him if it comes to a duel – and believe me, you are good, I remember, but he's better. If you don't manage to keep your gob shut, I'll obliviate you. And you will forget about Letitia as well. Severus – I'm sure your protective streak...", she felt a poke in her ribs and looked at Letitia next to her. "Yes?"

"Can I?"

Hermione shrugged, ignoring the pointed, annoyed and hopeful looks of both men. "Go ahead."

"Babbo, I like Giorgio. He did nothing, I swear. He didn't even touch me."

Severus opened his mouth in protest and was even more annoyed that no sound came out of his mouth.

"I know it didn't look like it but he came over and we just fell asleep. I'm not a puttana anymore. I'm not!", she screamed the last bit and tears were pooling in her eyes.

Hermione didn't understand a lot of Italian and neither did George but both of them understood that special word – and Severus – he looked scared suddenly. And he looked like he didn't want to hex George anymore. He looked like he was really worried about Letitia. And who wouldn't be after that confession?

"I'm not a whore!", she screamed – and fixing Severus with her glare – she lowered her tone. "Thank you for trusting me", and with that, she turned rapidly and ran out of the flat – obviously crying.

"Very well done", Hermione growled and ran after the girl – not bothering to undo the charms on them.

* * *

That had to happen – eventually. Her past was catching up on her and that the boy she had to come to terms with was George Weasley only added to everything. It was the Weasley's fault. If he hadn't been there – if he hadn't pursuit his girl, nothing like this would have happened – and Letitia could help them come up with an idea for the baby.

He tried to turn his head to glare at Weasley but he was still very much in that full body bind. He scowled.

* * *

Puttana – whore. His Letitia? That couldn't be, could it? She was so young – and Severus Snape her father? Or almost-father. She had only said – and now that made a bit more sense – only a bit – that he had rescued her from a shitty situation. Now he could only guess what kind of shitty situation that had been.

He groaned inwardly. Sweet Letitia. He would show her what real men were like. That she could trust him – and did not have to fear for anything.

With a gleam in his eye, he decided that he would have to act like a Slytherin to get the former Master-Slytherin to make him see that he only wanted the best for the girl. And even though he knew that both of them would drive a hard bargain – he would succeed.

* * *

"Letitia!", Hermione ran after the girl and when she reached her, she grabbed her arm and spun her around. "Hey, you don't run out like that", she scolded and, seeing the tear-stained face, she hugged her – instinctively. Must be all those motherly feelings she had developed lately.

"No!", Letitia cried and tried to wriggle out of the iron embrace.

"No no, Lettie", Hermione whispered soothingly. "I don't know what's happened to you..."

"Was whore, Hermione", she spat. "And babbo took me in but with Giorgio..."

"George is one of the kindest, sweetest people I know", Hermione said softly, "unprejudiced, and he will not judge you for that. And neither will I or Severus."

"Babbo does not judge. Babbo, Severus, rescued me. He knew", Letitia's tears were running freely down her cheeks now. "But you – I took care of your son and you think probably not is safe with me because..."

"That's not true", Hermione hugged the girl tighter. "I know you're a wonderful person and Jack loves you. Severus loves you. Did you see his face when you left?"

She shook her head and wiped the wet streaks from her face. "He only did because he's good person. Because he always helps you. Helped you with little Mattia."

"How do you know his name?", Hermione frowned.

"What do you mean? Was my idea."

Hermione laughed. "That's so Severus. Look, Lettie, he loves you. He really does. I haven't seen him being so kind to another person ever and I've known him since..."

"You were eleven. Told me", she hiccuped. "And Mattia is evil man who did horrible things to babbo. But not anymore. Is now baby."

"Do you know about the horrible things?"

Letitia looked at her earnestly – and nodded. "Not going to tell. Promised him."

Hermione raised her eyebrows and wrapped her arm around the girl's waist, gently pulling her with her. "Both of them are still in the body bind. We should get back and release them. God only knows that happened to the babies."

* * *

Why had she blurted it? Why had she done it? Giorgio – well, she could say arrividerci to the man. Though she thought she was really falling in love with him. With his kind, mischievous smile, the sparkling blue eyes and his gentle words.

He had never judged her – up until now. Now he would.

Probably she would have to take a page of babbo's book – he loved to push people away when he was feeling he had made a mistake and if that didn't happen – he wanted to run away. She would do the same thing.

She would have peace with babbo because she wasn't seeing Giorgio anymore and Giorgio wouldn't have to worry because of her past.

That was – was – was – was probably the best solution.

* * *

"You're still here", Hermione smirked – and lifted her wand.

Within seconds, they were both free and he knew he could talk again. He had a choice, he knew. Either hexing Weasley again – and for good measure Hermione for constraining him – or consoling his girl.

One look at his Letitia, he had made his choice. He didn't even bother to glare at either Weasley nor Hermione and instead, walked straight up to her and wrapped her tightly in his arms.

"I trust you, of course I trust you", he whispered softly. "I don't trust him though."

He felt her, rather than heard her, sob and her fists were clenched in his shirt. He rubbed his hands over her back. "It's okay, Letitia, really. There's absolutely nothing to cry about. I overreacted."

She shook her head and continued to cry.

"Hermione", he asked quietly as the girl didn't seem to at least calm a bit.

"Mh?", she asked, having her hands on George's shoulders.

He shot her a simple look – and relied on her ability to make connections.

She did – almost immediately. "Come on, George Weasley. I think we have some things to discuss."

"What about...", he asked helplessly gesturing at Letitia.

"Oh, the baby will be fine for tonight", she smiled and seemed to painfully pinch his upper arm. He suppressed a shriek and merely glared at her – then looked at Severus again. He still seemed a tiny bit shocked about seeing him – like this.

But – there were more important things. And he could still hex Weasley in the morning.

"George!", Hermione snapped her fingers in front of his face. "Now."

He got up tiredly and, without looking at Severus Snape, he stood behind Letitia and rubbed his hand over her back. "I'll be back in the morning."

She turned her head rapidly – and, with tears in her eyes, she shook her head. "No, George. Don't come back", she said – her voice raw from the crying before she turned back and buried herself back in Severus' arms.

"See you tomorrow", Hermione whispered and, standing by his side, kissed him on the cheek quickly – earning a rare, honest, helpless smile from him.

"Tomorrow", he nodded and turned his attention back to the girl.

He heard the door click softly and felt – for the thousands time – completely out of his depths with the sobbing Letitia in his arms.

__


	41. Night

_**The usual disclaimers apply.**_

_**

* * *

**_

"What did she mean?", George asked Hermione, after apparating back to the embassy. "And who was that child? Is it hers?"

"Letitia's? No", she laughed softly, trying not to wake Jack who slept on her arm. "The child is definitely not hers. And I'm sorry George, but I am not sure what she meant."

"And Snape? What is he doing here? What's he doing being alive? And who did he come to call Letitia his daughter? She only told me that he found her and rescued her? What was he doing, the sick, old man? And you? You're with him? The..."

"Shut up, George", she hissed. "I'll try and answer all of your question – except about Severus. That's his story to tell. But first, I'll put the little one to bed."

She looked at him sternly. "Firewhiskey's in the cabinet in the library. Maybe you should..."

"I'll wait for you there", he sighed.

She walked tiredly up the stairs – she knew that George now had the right to have his questions answered – but it didn't make it simpler. The entire day had been an ordeal. She only realized now how tense she had been – worried about Severus – his well-being – the question whether his plan worked out alright – whether all went according to plan with Malfoy. It had – almost too perfectly – but it had taken a toll on her and her hands were shaking slightly when she put Jack down in his bed and bent to kiss him.

She sighed, quickly got changed and in pyjama pants and a tank top, she traipsed down into the library. She had a good mind to have a firewhiskey herself. Just to being able to explain better – and get rid of that shaking in her hands.

She saw him slumping in one of her comfy chairs and without saying a word, she went to the cabinet and took the bottle and another glass out. She poured herself a generous measure and gulped it down.

"One question after another, please", she said wearily, sitting down herself.

"Are you in love with Snape?"

She sighed. "That's your first question?"

"Yes."

"I am", she said softly and poured herself another glass of the stinging liquid.

"But he's..."

"Not a word more", she growled. "Mine and his life are taboo, understood?"

He shrugged. "Alright, alright, don't get your knickers in a twist, 'ermione. Letitia?"

"Letitia? I honestly don't know myself. I hadn't heard about her past until tonight either. If you want to find out, you'll have to either ask Severus or herself."

"You don't think she meant it – about never wanting to see me again, I mean?"

"I don't think she meant it, no. But she was completely worn down tonight – scared, surprised by us coming in like this, the baby. She probably just reacted to all this. And to the fact that – maybe for the first time, she thought Severus didn't trust her", she shrugged. "It was worst for her. Her past is probably a very sore point for her and I don't blame her. George, if she means anything to you – and by the way you were snuggling, I'd say she does, you best give her some time."

He nodded slowly. "We'll see."

"It's not a problem for you what she was, is it?"

"No, no, no, oh Merlin's beard, no, of course not."

"Good", Hermione replied gruffly, "because I don't think she wanted to do this. Not judging by her reaction."

He sighed. "I don't doubt that for a moment. But the baby – it's really not hers, is it?"

She shook his head tiredly. It would be hard – this would be tough. Just to make him understand. And if he didn't – well, she was still good at memory charms. "The baby is a, erm, former dark wizard."

"What?", George got up. "What are you saying?"

Hermione closed her eyes and breathed deeply. Her hand massaged her neck – it started to hurt and if she didn't take a potion (or a muggle pill for that matter), she would have a major headache temporarily. "The baby is Lucius Malfoy."

George started to laugh – loudly, boomingly. The way she hadn't seen him laugh in years.

"I'm telling the truth", she tried to speak louder than his laughter and she failed miserably. She shook her head and waited. And waited. And waited.

"Are you alright now?", she yelled. "And will you stop that mad laughter?"

"Sorry", he still gurgled somewhat and wiped a tear from his eye, "I thought you said that Lucius Malfoy was the baby."

"He is", she shrugged. "Severus and I de-aged him."

He shook his head, stalked over to Hermione and took her glass out of her hands. "I think you've had enough", he chuckled. "You're obviously quite out of your mind. In love with Snape, saying that that baby you were carrying is Malfoy – forget it, Hermione. You need a decent night's sleep and maybe a few days off."

She frowned. "George, I had hoped it wouldn't come to this but...", she lifted her wand and pointed it at him. "Ob..."

"No!", he reacted quickly and had her wand in his hand before she could finish the incantation. "Are you serious?"

"I am", she said tiredly. "Can I have my wand back?"

"If you explain."

She sighed. "You know that Millicent Bulstrode and Draco Malfoy are married, right?"

He nodded but kept her wand.

"Now, Millie lost her baby because of Malfoy, Draco was almost dead when he arrived here because his father had used a knife on him and your father said that he was trying to get control over a few people again, rebuilding some of the Death Eater things."

"That's why he sent me here", his eyes widened. "Of course – he said you were in danger and I didn't understand, really. But if you say that Malfoy was really on the prowl again – and with you being a muggleborn and Snape alive...and your lover..."

"He didn't know Severus is alive. Nobody does, George. And nobody's supposed to know. I told you, I'll really hex you. Obliviate you and send you back home."

He swallowed. "So you de-aged Lucius Malfoy?"

"Yes."

"Why not kill him?"

She groaned. "Not you as well. Severus wanted that and it took me weeks to make him understand that that would only lead to trouble."

"But him being a baby doesn't?"

Hermione shrugged. "Not as much, I guess. We have no body to dispose of."

"But if he was given an average de-aging potion, like Recentior, and had overdosed that, he would ultimately die – without a body to dispose of."

"That was Severus' idea. How do you know about that?", she asked suspiciously.

"Fred and I...we messed around with it a bit but we..."

She nodded. "That's what we did", she shrugged. "We could have killed him – but this way – don't you see that it can be the ultimate revenge? We know who he is – exactly who he is. We can see where he is growing up and we can put him in a muggle family – or maybe in a half-blood family. Anything."

He exhaled slowly. "Blood-traitors?"

She frowned. "Do you have an idea?"

"I might", he smirked a little.

* * *

In the end, he had hoped that he had brewed a Calming Draught or at least Dreamless Sleep. But no – he had nothing like this here. He made a mental note to brew some in the following days – as her head rested in his lap and as her sobs became less and her eyes seemed to close.

His fingers carded in her hair. And he could understand completely why she had reacted this way – no matter if he trusted her – especially considering this – he didn't trust Weasley. He was older, probably a lot more experienced and she – she should have the chance to have normal teenage years. Despite her past. That she had misinterpreted her words – well, who could blame her? Not him, certainly not him – he, who took almost everything personally at first.

Her breathing had just evened when the baby – Mattia, he had to remind himself – began crying. Her head had still been in his lap, his hand still in her hair when she shot up.

She cried out in pain as a few strands of her hair got tangled between his fingers and she looked around a bit helplessly. He pulled his hand carefully back – and made a soothing noise.

"It's only Mattia, cara", he whispered gently and tried to push her on her back again.

"Hungry. Mattia is hungry", she said drowsily. "Have milk in the fridge. Have to heat it up."

"I'll do it."

"S'okay", she staggered to the fridge and pulled the prepared bottle out. "Made it earlier."

He smiled at her and in two stride, he was by her side and pressed a kiss on her forehead. "You're brilliant."

She hummed her approval of this statement and wanted to put a pot with hot water on the stove.

"No", he said gently and pointed his wand at the bottle in her hand. Within seconds, it was warm and she looked at him puzzled. "Magic", he smirked and turned to the still crying baby. "It's annoying", he muttered but picked him up. "So – how do I feed a child?", he asked her, still smirking.

She huffed and pushed the bottle in his hand. "Just lift it slightly and he'll drink."

Severus tried and she was right – almost instantly, the baby began to drink greedily.

"Mh", he grimaced. "He always was greedy."

She sat next to him – leaning against his arm. "Hermione asked what he's done to you."

He looked at her quizzically. "And?"

She shrugged and snuggled even closer, not bother that he had enough work on his hands with holding and feeding the infant. "I didn't tell her anything. Why should I tell her? Your thing."

"None of her business", he grumped. "It's enough that I have to deal with him now."

"He's cute."

Severus sighed and took his eyes off the baby quickly and glanced at her. "He wasn't, Letitia."

She nodded. "I think, we all have dark pasts", she muttered.

He nodded back at her and sighed. How right she was.

* * *

"Come in", he grumbled sleepily.

"Did I wake you?", Hermione asked – superfluously.

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes and silently pointed at the bed where Letitia was still asleep.

"Tough night?", she whispered.

"You have no idea", he groaned. "And that baby there – he seemed to wake every five minutes. Food, nappy, boredom. Spoiled child."

She raised her eyebrows and sat down on one of the chairs in the kitchen, silently. Severus was probably not a morning person. She wouldn't know – she had never woken up next to him. Maybe – maybe he could spent the night at the embassy someday. Soon. She would make him see reason – that Letitia was fine for a night alone – not now, apparently, but probably not too far in the future. And she really wanted to sleep next to him. Really.

"How is she?", Hermione asked quietly, nodding towards the girl.

"Shaken", he mumbled, yawned and stood, barefoot, in his kitchen, making coffee. "Weasley?"

"Ah!", she grinned. "Of course he wanted to know everything", she began, and, seeing his angry face, readily added, "nothing about you and nothing about her. Trust me, Severus. I told him clearly that if he wanted to know about you or her, he would have to ask you. But I told him about the baby."

"What?", he was louder than he intended to be, then, immediately realized that his girl and the baby were finally sleeping. "What?", he repeated softly, but he hissed. It was a dangerous voice. She knew. She knew the voice well.

"What choice did I have? He kept on asking if the baby was Letitia's..."

"You could have told him that we found him."

"He would have never believed me. George his not stupid, Severus", she hissed back, then suddenly, began to smirk triumphantly. "And besides, he already made arrangements for a family to take him in."

__


	42. Mattia

_**The usual disclaimers apply. **_

_**

* * *

**_

He threw his head back and laughed and laughed and laughed. Tears were actually threatening to spill from his eyes, he laughed so hard.

"Severus!", she whispered sharply. "You'll wake Letitia and the baby."

"I'm sorry", he still had to fight the laughter. "But this is hilarious."

"It's the best damn idea", she hissed.

Laughter was threatening again. "The Weasleys? Yes. Yes, it's the best damn idea."

"Not the Weasleys, Severus. You started laughing before I could explain better. Percy and is wife have tried to conceive and it doesn't work. They have, according to George, been thinking about adoption."

Severus still chuckled. "Imagine that, Lucius Malfoy being Percy Weasley's son. It's brilliant."

She rolled her eyes at his obvious glee – his revenge knew no bounds. Even though he knew that probably Lucius Malfoy couldn't probably find a better family to grow up in.

She, however, lay her hand on his arm and silenced him for the time being. "I thought about Draco and Millie at first."

He shook his head almost instantly. "No, Hermione. Definitely not."

"Why not?", she asked, calmly.

"It's still Lucius Malfoy – what do you think is going to happen if he's in that sort of environment again? And besides, Draco knows his family tree well, he knows what his ancestors looked like and remember that Baby's Breath doesn't change the appearance of a person entirely. It just switches things. And with time, I'm sure Draco would figure it out."

She nodded. "Those were my arguments against it actually."

"If he grows up with Weasleys, I'm not saying it's going to change his appearance but it'll change the way he will be brought up. He will know how to degnome gardens and how to live without house elves."

"And with muggles – Percy's wife is a muggle."

He grinned. "Better and better."

Once more, Hermione rolled her eyes. "George said he'll explain – something about a baby that was dumped in the embassy and he's sure Percy would take him."

"Mh", Severus looked at her inquisitively. "You don't expect me to like him suddenly because of that, do you?"

It was her turn to chuckle. "Would it kill you to allow them to see each other if someone's with them?"

"Most likely, yes", he groaned.

"I think I'll persuade you. Wear you down", she smirked. "Just think that he is gone. And no bad will come from him if he grows up with Percy Weasley."

"I wouldn't be too sure of that", he growled and bent forward, his elbows on the table. "But back to the persuasion. How are you going to do that?"

She grinned, pushed her hair behind her ears and bent forward as well. "I think I can think of some things. You could maybe give Letitia the potion and have her mind Jack at the embassy. And we could stay there. I'm very good with silencing charms."

"I noticed", he rolled his eyes, his nose now almost touching hers. "But I'll not let her stay there with Weasley on the prowl."

"Are you sure?", she whispered and pressed her lips against his.

"Yes", he answered.

"Really?", she smirked and suddenly her fingers twined in his hair and she pulled him forward roughly – kissing him just like that, their tongues tangling – and his toes curling. Amongst other things.

Those kisses of hers – addictive. Slow, languid, deep, letting him yearn for more, so much more and the thought that he wanted to go to sleep next to her, waking up next to her was ever growing. And if he placed a special charm on the room Letitia was staying in – keeping wards up to keep Weasley out – that should work.

And yet, all those thoughts were blown from his mind when she did this little thing with her teeth – slightly biting, grazing his lips. He pulled her even closer – until she was halfway laying on the table, and he felt her pushing herself up on her hands and knees – to crawl towards him even more.

"I only get dressed and then you can finish this", came a voice, groggily, from the other side of the room.

Hermione pulled away quickly and Severus wiped his lips, staring at Letitia.

"Sorry", Hermione blushed slightly, then grinned. "But I trust your babbo will allow you to see George again."

"Don't want to", she shrugged and padded to the bathroom. "Give me ten minutes."

* * *

"Does she mean it?", Hermione asked – sitting back on the chair and rubbing her fingers over her lips.

"She did last night", he sighed. "She – I can't do this", he ran his fingers through his hair and leaned back.

"If you go get breakfast, I'll talk to her", she offered.

"Would you?", he asked hopefully. "Girls are not..."

She smiled. "No, I remember. Not exactly your area of expertise."

He shrugged and got up. "I think she thinks she's not worth it."

"I would have guessed", she nodded at him and watched with interest when he got into jeans and a polo-shirt. "Go. Maybe I need an hour."

"I'll not take him with me", he grunted and pointed at the baby.

"No", she laughed. "Just go, I'll deal with it. I have been a teenage girl once myself."

"Yes. And pursuit by a Weasley", he mumbled and left the flat – ignoring her laughter from within.

Hermione sighed and looked around. There was a coffee machine and she busied herself filling it, watching it until the girl returned from the bathroom.

"Where's he?", she asked – almost fearfully.

"Went to get breakfast", she moved towards the girl and took her hand. "He'll be back soon."

Letitia nodded and sat down on the table – the chair Severus had sat in.

"Why don't you want to see George anymore?", Hermione asked carefully, standing behind the girl, her hands on her shoulders.

Letitia shrugged and remained silent.

* * *

Why not? Many reasons – because she really liked him and because he wouldn't like her anymore. Because she was dirty, a soiled human being. Because he was a wizard and she was – well, Italian and not a wizard. Because he hated her babbo and babbo hated him.

Because he seemed like a decent, if a bit depressed, perfect man. And she was anything but.

"Lettie?", Hermione asked quietly, pulling her out of her thoughts.

"What?", she turned around viciously and glared at the older woman. "What do you want to know? Yes, I was a damn whore. Because babbo rescued me when the protettore wanted to rape me. Again. Because I wasn't bringing him enough money, he took me instead. Is that what you want to know? Or want to know that father left my mother when I was a baby and my mother died and I ran away from nuns because I couldn't be there anymore? Or that I love babbo so much that I am jealous for you sometimes? That I know you will take him away and I will be alone again – and on streets, fighting again, being raped again?", she exploded and shouted, not caring that the baby had begun crying almost instantly. "Is that what you want to know?"

Hermione breathed deeply. Too much information all at once. She tried to remain calm and went to pick up the child. "No, that wasn't what I wanted to know", she said quietly, trying to soothe the baby.

"He's hungry", Letitia replied loudly, testily and got up, scratching the chair on the floor.

"Where are you going?"

"Fridge", she glared and picked up the bottle from it, shoving it in Hermione's free hand. "Babbo heat it with his wand."

Hermione nodded, placed the bottle on the table and reheat the bottle of milk. "We found parents for him."

"Lucky him", Letitia growled and took a book from one of the shelves her babbo had built. She rushed to her bed and flopped on her belly on it. The conversation was over. It wasn't anyone's business why she didn't want to see him again. She just didn't.

* * *

She had left him with her, certain that it was for her, Severus' and Letitia's best. She took Mattia, fed, burped and freshly changed, with her, and had ignored the helpless glance Severus was throwing her when he saw Letitia pouting, reading, on her bed. She had merely shrugged and left. She would have to talk to George – after she had gotten out of the mess with the baby.

That, no, he, was top priority at the moment. And getting him safely to the embassy and then to a family. Whether it was really Percy or if maybe another Weasley took him in. It didn't matter.

"Mummy!", Jack rushed towards her almost immediately. "Who baby?", he asked, pointing at Mattia in her arms, his chubby hands pushed into his chubby hips.

"That's Mattia, sweetie."

"You brought him?", George came panting towards them as well.

"Yep", she smiled. "Why are you breathing like that."

He rolled his eyes. "Your son discovered his toy broom", he complained.

"What toy broom?"

"The one in his room", George replied, puzzled. "It was under his bed."

"Jack, where did you get the broom?", she questioned her son with a raised eyebrow.

"Jack gimme boom", he showed a grin full of spit. "Jack."

"Snape gave him a broom? You might want to check it for jinxes." George shrugged and looked at the boy. "But I'm not minding him again with the broom where he can reach it."

She giggled. "Jack brought you a broom?"

The little one nodded happily and toddled off – apparently towards the broom again. Hermione turned to George and handed him the baby. "Contact your brother please and tell him we found the baby on the doorstep. Or anything."

"Snape agreed to this?"

Hermione, who had started walking away, turned her head and grinned. "Yes."

* * *

If Severus Snape knew one thing, it was how a person looked when they were about to lose themselves in their thoughts. And Letitia, she looked exactly like that. On her stomach, on the bed, an open book before her – and a page she hadn't turned in ten minutes. It was high time he pulled her out of there and – he had even had an idea.

"Cara?", he asked, sitting on the edge of her bed. "Letitia? Cara?"

"Mh?", she looked up tiredly. "Why do you call me that?"

"Cara?", he smiled. "You call me babbo, don't you. Equal rights." He stroked her hair and his smiled turned into a smirk.

She grimaced but turned towards him and lay her head on his thigh. "I was mad at Hermione."

Severus chuckled. "Maybe she deserved it. Now, cara, what about a little trip?"

"Trip?", she asked suspiciously. "Don't have suitcase or anything."

"You don't need one. We'll be back in half an hour, an hour", he grinned and pulled her up slightly.

"Then it's no trip", she complained.

"It's going to be the best trip you'll ever had."

* * *

"He's coming with his wife", George put the baby back in Hermione's arm who was watching Jack zoom around the room on his little toy broom. Barely able to walk but perfectly able to fly. That was Harry – indeed. "You let him fly with his thing?"

"Just close the door or he'll fly out again", she nodded towards the door.

"Oh, and he stinks", George huffed, pointing at Mattia. "If I had known that I would be a babysitter here, I wouldn't have come."

"And lose the opportunity to meet Letitia?", she smirked.

"She doesn't want to see me again."

"She's a girl. It's her birthday soon..."

"Tomorrow."

"And if you give her a nice gift, or maybe – and I know that Severus would probably like that, woo her wizard-style, or decently muggle-style, lots of flowers etcetera, you will be in her good books again."

He shook his head disbelievingly. "We'll see. Oh, and Percy will arrive any minute now. I suppose you get him changed."

Letitia – she was hurt. He knew. And he was hurt – in the long run. But Merlin knew how much he liked her and how much she was worth it. How could he tell her that he didn't care about her past? And that he wouldn't hurt her?

Flowers? Would certainly not do the job. He needed to make Snape understand how serious his intentions were. That he wouldn't touch her. That he hadn't. That he had, accidentally, fallen asleep and had no idea how she had wound up in his arms.

Somehow, in one second, he realized that he wouldn't give up on that girl. And if he had to blackmail Snape.

* * *

Hermione smiled winningly, or tried to, with the baby in her arms when Percy and a beautiful blonde stood on her doorstep.

"Percy", she said in a way of greeting and shook his hand.

"This is my wife Audrey", he greeted Hermione. "George said there was something that might interest us."

"Indeed. Did he tell you more?", she asked, ushering the two of them in.

"You found a baby."

"A week ago", she nodded. "And we noticed the Italian Ministry but there's nothing about a missing child. They offered the orphanage but George mentioned you..."

"Can I see him?", Audrey asked – her accent rather posh.

"You can hold him", Hermione replied – confident that she had gotten the boy a family already when she saw the woman's eyes glazing over. "Wait – Audrey, I thought George said you were a muggle..."

"I am", Audrey nodded at the baby.

"How can she see the embassy...be in here?", Hermione asked puzzled.

"Simple charm", Percy replied smugly. "Will only hold for one hour, but..."

"I see"; she nodded. "Well, anyway, George mentioned that you might want to..."

"We want to", Audrey said immediately, never taking her eyes off the boy. "What's his name."

Hermione coughed. Just to hide her glee. "Mattia."

"Percy?", the blonde asked her husband, with big, blue eyes.

"Do you have papers for the Ministry?", he asked suddenly.

"Oh Percy, you dungbomb, he was found. Nobody misses him. His mother is probably happy to get rid of it. We tried everything. Of course there's no paperwork", George came sliding down the banister of the staircase and grinned at his brother and sister-in-law. "He will have it better with you than in some orphanage. You just go to the Department of Register and tell them it's your child. No biggie!"

"Absolutely", Hermione nodded, then turned to George, "and if you show my son how to slide down there, I'll hex you into next months."

"Thank Merlin it's the 29th", he smirked. "Percy, Audrey. It was nice seeing you, take the boy, give mum my love and just be happy you have a baby."

"We can't just...", Percy complained.

"Nobody misses him, Percy", his wife cooed. "Nobody wants him."

Percy shrugged. "Is it safe to apparate with a baby?"

Hermione nodded, smiling broadly. "Absolutely."

George winked, blew a kiss to the three standing in the foyer and slid up the banister again.

* * *

Somewhere in Scotland, a name was added to a long list of names. Mattia Weasley, son of Percy and Audrey Weasley, starting Hogwarts in 2012.

__


	43. The trip

_**The usual disclaimers apply.**_

_**

* * *

**_

Severus wrapped his arms tightly around his girl.

"Hold on tight, don't let go and maybe you want to close your eyes", he said gently and once, brushed his hand over her back when she looked at him fearfully – and then, with a pop, he was gone.

He had to chuckle inwardly, apparently, she really wanted to scream and she clung to his shirt (no robes – he would have but then again, he didn't have any, but Polyjuice – and the Squib-for-one-day-potion for her) in sheer terror.

Within a minute, it was over – and Letitia had apparated for the first time.

"Cazzata! What was that?", she gasped, then, letting go off his shirt, doubled over. He griped her instantly and set her upright on her feet again, leaning her against his chest.

"Side-along apparation. Far distance", he smirked. "Not baby-stuff like getting from the Piazza Nazionale home."

She still breathed heavily and, only now, seemed to open her eyes, still leaning on him for support. "Where are we?"

He smiled. "See that over there?", he pointed into the distance.

"A castle. Interesting", she replied testily. "That was why my insides were squeezed upside down."

"Insides cannot be squeezed upside down."

She spun around and glared at him. "You know what I mean."

Severus chuckled again and took her arm, walking a few steps towards the edge of a forest. "That _castle_ up there is the school I worked at. Where Hermione and Weasley..."

"Hog-something", Letitia interrupted.

"Hogwarts. Yes. And this is the forbidden forest."

"Forbidden?", Letitia asked excitedly. "Why?"

"Nobody knows really. Students at Hogwarts believe probably it's called like that because they are not allowed to go in there. But nobody knows for sure. The name is older than any of those who live in it."

"Who lives in it?", she looked up suspiciously. "Is it dangerous."

"Would the students be forbidden to go in otherwise?", he smirked, then stroked her cheek gently. "But don't worry. Nothing's going to happen to you."

She grimaced as she walked next to him in her trainers and kicked a little rock. "And what are we doing here?", she asked grumpily.

"First", he grinned, "we're getting rid of that." Severus, disguised as Paolo, pulled Lucius Malfoy's wand from his backpocket. "Wand to snap it?"

"Snap it?", she asked and stood rooted to the spot. "Why?"

"Close to here is a nest of acrumantulas."

"Acru...?"

Severus thought for a moment. Letitia was scared of tiny spiders. Telling her that there were thousands of huge, giant spiders would not help her enjoy this trip. Not at all. "Magic animals – they won't harm me and you, but they would have probably harmed him. So if we make the wand..."

"Look like he lost it when he was eaten by those animals, everyone will believe he was here?", she finished his thought.

Looking at her proudly, he nodded. "You're very smart, cara", he smiled. "Now, do you?"

She frowned. "So if he fought against animals, we can't just snap it in half", she pondered. "It would look more like this, I think", she took the wand from his hand, and tried how far it would go before snapping. It wasn't very bendy, so, she went down on her knees, always closely observed by him (who had no idea what she was trying to do), with his wand already in his hand.

He was sure that the acromantulas would definitely not harm him – they could see, or rather smell and sense through Polyjuice (not the only creatures in the forest who could) and he had helped them on more than one occasion when he had still taught. But nevertheless, he wasn't taking any chances. And with her, kneeling on the ground, now, that was just odd – until he noticed what she was doing.

She leaned heavily on the wand, as if she were falling – and it bent and snapped. Leaving two pieces of wand lying around. "Done", she grinned at him. "Is there more to do?"

He shook his head in amusement. Sometimes, teenagers were so difficult. And sometimes, they really weren't – but truth be told – in this moment, he was glad that she was beginning to act like one and not like some reasonable 30-year-old. She was finally getting control over her life. Even if she didn't have any of those over her emotions.

"Oh yes", he smirked, pulled tiny black robes from his pocket and enlarged them, holding them stiffly between two fingers.

"Those are his clothes?", Letitia asked – clearly appalled.

"Indeed they are", he grinned.

"Mh", she simply nodded and draped them carefully on the ground, looking up, moving them, dredging them through the soil, then, looked at them quizzically. "Can you somehow put a weight on those?"

"How do you mean?", he asked – and then, within a second – understanding. "Oh, sure. Loapintum", he replied, waving his wand over the robes. They immediately looked like as if a person was in them.

"And now, pull, erm, drag them around a little?"

He nodded, proud of his girl, and did as she told. "Where shall I leave them?"

"Just there", she pointed to the area next to the wand. "Put some of them over the wand."

She looked at her piece of art with a kind of happy contentment, while he had an idea – quite suddenly. Well, not so suddenly. Something had buzzed around his head for a while – and now, now, it became perfectly clear.

He pulled a bit of the Italian muggle paper Hermione kept at the embassy from his pocket (you never know when you need paper and a pen for), shot a quick spell at his hand, wrote a bit – and sent the note flying to Lucius' inner pocket of the robes.

He grinned – glad that Letitia hadn't really seen anything and pulled her with him. Time for the fun part of the trip.

* * *

She wasn't quite sure why babbo went to such measures to get rid of the evil man's magic wand and clothes but somehow, she did understand that under no circumstances, was anyone supposed to find out what had happened to him. And why he had sent a bit of paper flying into the pocket of the poor man who was now a baby. She knew that if she asked – long and annoying enough – she would get an answer but truth be told, this entire world, those people and what babbo and Hermione did with their wands (George had kept it away – hadn't used it once), was quite dreamlike for her. Quite surreal, really.

And suddenly, as she was looking on the ground (dio, those rocks really were a pain in trainers), he stood and pulled her close. Looking at him, he nodded towards a clearing in the distance. "Can you see them?", he asked quietly.

"Yes", she replied, almost disgustedly. "What are those?", she asked back, scrutinising the sort of horse-like, black creatures – with wings, very thin, so thin one could see their bones.

"Thestrals", he answered voicelessly. "Have you seen anyone die?"

She looked at him quizzically. "What kind of question is that?"

He bit his lip and seemed to think for a moment. "Only those who have seen death, can see thestrals."

She swallowed hard, but nodded. "Yes." No explanation. Not yet. Maybe later. "Are they dangerous?", she asked a minute later.

"No, cara. They're not", he replied and moved a bit closer to them. He gestured her to come with him, and she followed, quite closely – not knowing what to expect in a forest like this – full of creatures who were thought capable of eating a fully grown man and things you could only see once you had seen death. She smelled them already.

Not unpleasant – not pleasant. A sort of meaty scent. Like at the butcher's.

"I'll try and get some hairs from them", he explained. "They usually gave it to me freely when I worked here but now – I'm not sure."

But yet – miraculously, once they stepped really close to the butchery-smelling, scary-looking animals (animals? Letitia thought), the creature looked up at babbo and, after a moment of what seemed like intent gazing, turned to his side and seemed to offer him her head. It almost looked like that.

He smiled – gently touched the thing's long neck, and, quickly, had a knife in his hand – cutting some strands of the black, hair from his neck.

It had all gone so quick – so rapidly, that Letitia wasn't sure it had happened at all – except for the fact that he had taken a little bag, leather, it looked like, from his bag and put the hairs in – but by that time, she found herself confronted with the same thestral, nudging her hand with his nose.

She only heard babbo chuckling behind her and found herself stroking the silky nose of the scary-looking animal. It was softer than she thought it would be – and gentler.

* * *

"Can I take her home?", she asked jokingly, seeing that the thestral was following them as they left the clearing.

"A thestral in a rented flat in the middle of Rome. Yes, I can see that working quite well", he replied sarcastically.

Suddenly, she stood stock-still, pulling on his arm. "Babbo?"

"Yes?", he asked, still amused by the thestral trotting behind them.

"You want to come back here, right?", Letitia asked earnestly, the pain and hurt and disappointment clearly written all over her face.

He sighed and pulled her – for the twentieth time in the last 48 hours against his chest. "No, Letitia, I don't want to come back here. I wanted to show you the forest because I thought you might like it. Because I think we might see unicorns on our way back. And I can't come back here because I have a responsibility back in Rome."

"Is Hermione pregnant?", she asked, pulling back, her eyes wide and the fear – more visible.

"No, Hermione is not pregnant."

"Then what responsibility?"

"I signed the adoption papers this morning when you were alone with Hermione", he grinned and kissed the top of her head affectionately. "You're my daughter now."

She stared, still wide-eyed – and the fear was replaced by confusion, joy. Both. Equally.

"I'm your...daughter?", she gasped.

"Officially, signed and sealed. You can change your name if you like, though I can see this would be quite difficult, seeing that I don't really use only one last name", he smirked.

She was dumbstruck, awestruck and all the other -strucks Severus could think about, hurled herself into his arms, cried, laughed and was generally a mess. But a happy mess.

And he – he knew he had a family now – even if it was just a daughter.

* * *

She didn't know how long she clung to his frame – how long she sobbed into his shirt – or how long she stood there, trying desperately to catch one single, unhiccuped, steady breath.

It was only after a while, that she felt his chin on her head – and after another while, that she felt him push her ever so slightly away and turn her around in his arms.

"Look", he whispered and pointed slightly in another direction. "Those are unicorns."

Her eyes glazed over – she wasn't sure whether she had ever seen anything quite so beautiful, quite so perfect before. There were two – one slightly larger than the other but both so white that she was tempted to close her eyes for a bit – if she could only take them off that beauty for a moment. Yet, she found herself unable to and she didn't quite realise that her hand had babbo's in a tight grip.

Both unicorns – probably a male and a female – stood in the bright sunlight, grazing one some grass, seemingly unaware that there were people who watched them.

"I'd really like some of their tail hair", he whispered in her ear but the words barely registered. All that did, were the wonderful creatures in front of her – the absolute opposites of the winged horses she had seen before – black and white – death and life, probably – even though the thestral, still standing behind them and as them, watching the unicorns, seemed so gentle and so clingy.

"Oo's there?", a boomingn voice shouted suddenly, the unicorns took flight immediately, the thestral seemed to look a bit lost and babbo had his arms around her in a second, holding her tight and appareared her away without any warning.

* * *

"Who was that?", she asked anxiously, realising they were – once again – where Lucius Malfoy's robes lay.

"Hagrid. He works at Hogwarts", Severus explained. "It doesn't matter. We have to go back."

She nodded understandingly and wrapped her arms around his waist. "I'm ready."

"Quite", he answered, lifted his wand straight up in the air and shot black sparks up.

"Why...", her question was swallowed by the apparition. He would answer it – as soon as they were safely back home again.

__


	44. A night to remember

_**The usual disclaimers apply. **_

_**Dedicated to stsgirlie for reading in one go!**_

_**

* * *

**_

Hermione stood behind her (what was the term?) lover, boyfriend, significant other and had her hand on both his shoulders, massaging gently. Jack was with Letitia and Hermione had sent Toffee along to help the girl.

A night for the two of them together. A whole night. George had, for the weekend, gone home and they were all alone in the embassy and Severus saw no need to polyjuice himself – especially since she had trouble even touching him when he looked like his neighbour.

They didn't speak, they had had dinner (taken out – she couldn't be bothered with cooking) and had shared a bottle of Chardonnay with it and now, she had just decided that she needed some closeness. And some answers. Answers, he wasn't quite willing to give.

Instead, he pulled her hands forward, keeping them in his in front of his chest and made her lean against his upper back, her nose on the crook of his neck.

"Are you alright?", she asked softly, astounded, slightly, by his cuddly attitude.

"Fine, Hermione. Fine", he replied and kissed her knuckles – one by one.

"I tried to call you yesterday", she confessed. "Service wasn't available."

"I was away."

"Really?"

"Mh", he hummed in the affirmative and turned slightly, pulling her on his lap.

"Don't want to share?", she asked, getting comfortable with her arms around his neck. She wondered, for a brief moment, whether all this, all those dealings with Lucius and her and George had brought out his old persona a bit more – the secretive spy, the person who trusted only very select few – the brooding man – incapable of showing affection.

And within a second – she was proved wrong. "I took Letitia on a trip."

"Really?", she grinned and kissed the tip of his nose. "I take it she liked it?"

"She wondered what was so special about the castle and the forest until she saw a thestral", he explained calmly, running his fingers through her somewhat messy hair.

"Castle? Forest?", she asked, panic edging into her voice. "Did you go to..."

"The forbidden forest, yes", he replied, still calm, still with his fingers in her hair. "Do you think it would be done with de-aging Malfoy?"

"No but I thought..."

"Whatever you thought, you thought wrong, Hermione", he replied, atypically gently. "And I'm sure that an Auror will show up here tomorrow, or the day after at the latest."

"Why?", she asked, edging away from his slightly – sitting on his knee now.

"Hermione, do you trust me?", he asked, looking at her with those dark, knowing eyes. Those eyes that seemed to bore into her very being. Her soul.

She nodded slowly. "Of course."

"Then it's better that I don't tell you."

She grimaced. "I knew you would give me that line. So you did something with Malfoy's wand. And perhaps his clothes you took them. Fine, Severus", she huffed and got up. "Don't tell me then. I'll just stumble along then when they ask me if I knew anything about the disappearance of one Lucius Malfoy. Because frankly, I don't know anything about it except the fact that you tortured him..."

"I didn't torture him", he muttered, loudly enough for her to hear and she raised her voice.

"That you tortured him and then we de-aged him. That I held his head while you tipped the potion his throat and that I placed him with Percy Weasley and his wife. Yes. A grand plan."

He rolled his eyes and stood up, grabbing her upper arms and pulling her closer to him – but not in an embrace. Just close enough that she could feel him breathing. Smell the Chardonnay and smell the typical Severus-scent. "We brought his robes and wand to the forbidden forest and made it look like the acromantulas had a fine meal", he confessed, his eyes rolling. "Happy now?"

"Yes", she smiled a little. "Shows that you trust me", Hermione added – her smile only broadening a little.

He groaned – and his expression – one of fierce determination – did not change at all. "Brilliant", he whispered, then bent down, bringing his lips to her earlobe. He bit in it gently, causing her to squeak a little.

"If I hadn't trusted you", he spoke directly into her ear – shivers were running up and down her spine - "I would have never talked to you. I would have taken my things and would have moved. With or without Letitia."

She pulled away and looked into his eyes – deeply. Those were not the bottomless pits she had seen as a students. Those were real eyes – full of emotions, full of those weird lunacy some people called windows to the soul.

He meant – he meant every single word he said.

"You mean it", she said softly.

And he just shrugged, pushing her off of his lap – and got up himself. "I wouldn't have said it if I hadn't meant it."

She rolled his eyes – and wrapped her arms around his waist from behind. "Severus?"

"Mh?", he asked, walking slowly up towards the stairs.

"I am really in love with you", she said quietly – earnestly – meaning it.

He nodded. He only nodded.

* * *

How could he reply to something like this? As Jack Torrance, it had been no problem. He had said what was appropriate to say. As Severus Snape (and he didn't doubt one second that he was back to being Severus Snape), he wasn't sure what he was supposed to answer. He wasn't sure what he felt – except a form of peace when they were together.

And – knowing that he could be himself with her – no matter who or what that was.

That she was comforting him (without knowing it), and that he felt at home, for the first time in a long time, when he was with her.

Letitia was his family – the anchor that kept him and Hermione – Hermione was his peace.

He turned around and looked at her – then his lips descended on hers softly. "Hermione", he whispered against her mouth and engaged her in a kiss – a mere promise of more kisses to come and he hoped that he could convey with that kiss all that he felt when she was with him. When he was with her. When they were together. What she meant to him. Even though he knew that a kiss could only show so much.

Impulsively, he picked her up and held her tightly. "Where is your bedroom?", he spoke with a husk in his voice, and intensity he had never heard himself use before.

She merely giggled, kissed his neck and pointed up the stairs.

* * *

It was the sweetest pleasure to have her in his arms, to just lay there, stroked her face or her hair, or anything that was in his reach – to just being able to touch her without having to leave or thinking about leaving.

To know that Letitia was fine with Toffee and Jack and that Jack was fine with both of them. Actually, when he thought of the baby, he tried to think of him as Jack – not Harry Potter. And amazingly enough, most of the time, it worked.

"What do you think people will think if they find him?", she asked suddenly, her finger tracing patterns on his chest, her legs still intertwined with his.

"That he had no business in the forest – that he shouldn't have been there", he spoke into her hair, his nose deeply buried in the masses, breathing in her scent.

"Acromantulas?"

"His robes, along with black sparks in the sky and a smashed wand will be found, no, will have been found yesterday, I hope, since Hagrid was in the forest and should have seen it, near the nest of the acromantulas."

She nodded and looked up, kissing his chin. "Alright."

"Good. Now can we stop talking about this infernal business?", he ran his hand down her stomach, her hip and her thigh, then up again.

Hermione laughed throatily again and pushed herself up on his stomach, continuing the attack of his lips on his body.

* * *

There was something heavy on her stomach and chest and for a moment, Hermione thought that mabye Jack had come to her bed during the night again and had – during the time that he slept – pushed himself on her top of her and slept there now.

But when she cracked her eyes open (only a bit – it was far too bright to have the eyes open wide), she saw a head full of dark hair – with only a little bit of grey in it, laying on her chest.

On her chest?

She smiled to herself. So he was really the cuddly type while sleeping. For one moment, an unwanted thought travelled through her mind. Every night, every single bloody night she had spent in one bed with Ron (and the sex was only mindless groping and whatever compared to what Severus was doing to her) – they had woken up miles from one another and she had sported more than one bruise because he had kicked during the night.

With Severus, she slept peacefully, happily, contentedly – and apparently, she could really go to sleep in his arms and could wake up – with him in her arms.

It was a lovely, comforting, amazing thought.

"I can feel you staring at me", his sleepy voice came from her chest.

"You're very handsome when you sleep", she replied.

"When I sleep", he grumbled and pushed slightly away from her.

"Not only when you sleep, of course", she laughed and kissed his brow gently.

* * *

"I hope Jack's fine", Hermione worried during breakfast. Just coffee, toast and a bit of marmalade (brought by George – made by his mother).

"Of course he's fine", he smiled at her a little and took her hand on the table, when suddenly, he thought he heard something. "Did you hear that?"

"Knock on the door?", she speculated.

Severus nodded. "Suppose so."

"Who?"

"Are the floos still closed?"

"Of course", Hermione nodded, getting up.

"And the apparition wards?"

"In place", she nodded again – and laying a hand on his shoulder, she stood for a moment. "Why?"

"Aurors", he explained. "Must be. Malfoy was last seen here."

She sighed – then breathed deeply, and, wrapping her dressing gown closer around herself, she left him sitting.

He, however, was quick enough to think – and, taking his wand from where he had put it on the table (a mere hunch), he summoned the vial of Polyjuice he usually kept somewhere on his person and downed it. Even it those were aurors, they didn't know him nor his wand. Nothing.

* * *

"Minister!", Hermione exclaimed, seeing Kingsley Shacklebolt standing on her doorstep, surrounded by three aurors. "Wow. Come in", she acted surprised.

"Thank you", he replied gruffly, while the three others remained silent.

"Erm, I'm a bit confused", she confessed – and, pulling the dressing gown closer again, hugging herself in the process, was a bit embarrassed. But nothing to be done about that. Only keep him out of the kitchen. Severus. He mustn't see Severus.

"Nothing to be confused about, Hermione", Shacklebolt smiled a bit too broadly, "I just want to see Draco Malfoy."

"Draco Malfoy? Why?", she asked – really confused now.

The Minister sighed and turned to the aurors. "Go and search the house."

"Search the house? Why?"

"Lucius Malfoy was found death yesterday. Well, not so much death as ripped to pieces. And we have evidence that Draco had something to do with it."

"Draco?", she asked voicelessly and felt her heart beating wildly.

__


	45. Malfoy

_**The usual disclaimers apply.**_

_**

* * *

**_

"Draco is not here", Hermione shook her head. "You can search all you want but you won't find him. And Lucius Malfoy...what?"

Suddenly, there were hands on her waist and a chin on her shoulder. She looked over it and – with an inward sigh of relief – saw Paolo. Well, Severus as Paolo. She relaxed instantly.

"Everything alright, my sweet?", he asked loud enough for everyone to hear – a slight Italian tilt in his English.

"Fine, darling", she replied and grinned broadly. "Have you met our Minister of Magic?"

"At the party, yes. Briefly", he replied and smiled friendly. "What brings you here? Hermione and I thought that we had..."

"Quite", Shacklebolt seemed obviously only now to realize that both of them were in barely more than dressing gowns. "You were the one who talked to Lucius Malfoy, didn't you?"

"Briefly", Severus nodded, his hands on her waist again.

"What happened to him?", she interrupted. "I mean it's not every day you hear someone is killed by acromantulas."

The Minister sighed. "Rubeus Hagrid found his robes and his wand – destroyed near their nest in the forest yesterday. And in his robes, we found this", he handed Hermione a small bit of paper. The same paper she used in the embassy.

_Father,_

_Monday at the agreed place. It might interest you._

"It's his handwriting, am I correct?", the Minister asked.

Hermione shrugged – desperate for a quiet moment with Severus – her rage, while still contained, would probably knew no bounds.

Why had he done something like that? She knew he was angry with Draco – had still had to settle a bill with him – but this? That would bring him to Azkaban. Even though he hadn't done anything.

"Where is Draco Malfoy?", the Minister pulled her from her thoughts.

"A safehouse. With his wife", Hermione replied calmly.

"Why would they go there? Away from here?", he replied – anger flaring up – visibly.

Hermione shrugged again. "They wanted to", she simply stated. "But I'm sure an owl would reach them."

"You get them here in the next hour", Shacklebolt raged and stormed off immediately.

"You!", she hissed suddenly, turning to a smirking Severus disguised as his own friendly neighbour. "In there, now!", she pointed at the kitchen and almost dragged him in. She took his wand and waved it quickly. The muffliato was in place immediately.

"How can you do this to him? What were you thinking?"

He still grinned. "I actually thought a lot about it, Hermione. And believe me, he will be free. And if we're lucky – and we will be – Shacklebolt will trip over that as well."

"What? How? Are you insane?"

* * *

He smirked, took her face in his hands and kissed her briefly. "Because, coincidentally, the night before last, Minerva McGonagall got invited to the Malfoys. By Millie. Well, she didn't. I did but Minerva thinks Millie invited her and she went there yesterday. During the time that the robes were placed there. And found. And about two hours beforehand. And one hour after. Probably."

"Excuse me?", she asked, pulling away slightly.

"Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress of Hogwarts..."

"Yes, yes, I understood that but how? I mean Millie invited her but didn't?"

"As you might have seen, I'm perfectly capable of faking someone else's handwriting. There is a simple spell, actually", he grinned. "And Millie wanted to see Minerva again because she was feeling lonely a bit and because of, well, I wrote that she just wanted to meet her again and invited her. Luckily, Minerva went exactly when I wanted her to go", Severus explained, kissing her briefly yet again.

"So you planned all of this?", she pushed him away and began to pace. "All of this was really planned like that?"

Severus shook his head. "You give me a little too much credit. I wanted Minerva to see Millicent and Draco – because they can really use someone like her on their side – but when I heard that she went to visit them on that day..."

"How did you know that?"

"Spies have ways of knowing", he smirked.

"How?", she asked, her face growing a little redder still.

"Minerva was very surprised to see this letter of Missus Malfoy – and she wrote a reply, stating she would come and when", he explained.

"That doesn't..."

"Do you know how the Ministry intercepts mail? Or how you-know-who did it?"

"Shoot down the owls?", she huffed.

"No. A simply copying charm. Placed on the letter that you want an answer to", he grinned.

"Yes, but a simple revealing charm would have undone it", she grimaced.

He shrugged. "Neither thought of doing it. At least I got a copy of the reply."

"And how do you know that she really went? Don't you understand it, Severus? You could bring him to Azkaban. For life. If there were still Dementors, he would probably be Kissed."

"Don't be hysterical now, Hermione", he admonished, then turned serious, quite suddenly. "I apparated to Cornwall quickly – I know about the area where the cottage is..."

"But it's a safe house. The Fidelius..."

"Was holding up perfectly", he calmed, "but knowing the only wizarding village in Cornwall helps. And knowing that McGonagall couldn't find the cottage either worked to my advantage."

"When did you...?"

"When you were alone with her", he shrugged.

"But you got breakfast, you signed the adoption papers and you went to Cornwall? Seeing her there? Are you Superman?"

"Super-Severus", he joked. "But no, I'm simply a wizard. Confounding Italian clerks, civil servants and the likes is rather a new hobby of mine. And it's less queuing that way."

"Are you sure she went there?"

He nodded. "Yes, absolutely. He has an alibi, Hermione. And even if he didn't – the magical traces left there are not his."

"They're...they're yours."

He shook his head. "There are those of his own wand. A spell, I must confess, invented by you-know-who. But it seemed fitting in that moment."

She shook her head and he wasn't sure whether she was still angry or mad at him. She was merely staring at him wide-eyed.

"I don't want to bring him for Azkaban for life, Hermione. I want just a taste of revenge. Just a little. Him being questioned. And if Shacklebolt does anything not by the book, Minerva McGonagall will be on his heels. And trust me..."

"That woman can be anyone's downfall, yes", Hermione sighed. "Are you sure that it all works to your plan?"

He nodded.

"Are you sure, Severus?"

"Yes, Hermione", he groaned. "I'm sure Minerva went to see them and even though I cannot guarantee how long she stayed there, I do know her. And she can never drag herself away from people she can have a good chat with."

"I know", she chuckled lightly.

He felt the tension draining from her – could almost see it – and suddenly realised that there was a question bubbling underneath her surface. And he knew the question.

"Hermione, I will not reveal myself. Not to her specifically. She tried to kill me, she would still distrust me."

"How did you do that?", she asked, stepping closer. "Are you using Legilimency?"

He laughed quickly – and opened his arms, waiting for her to step in completely. "No. But it was written all over your face that the Gryffindor know-it-all-princess had to ask that question."

"But you trust her enough to get this whole thing straightened out?", she asked tentatively, staring at his opened arms – wishing to rush in but waiting for a moment.

"I never doubted her ability to do the right thing", he said simply.

* * *

"What do you want?", Draco asked, clearly startled.

"Arresting you", the Minister replied coldly. "As I should have done years ago."

"What for?", the blonde asked, looking around wildly until his eyes settled on Hermione.

"Luring your father into a deathly trap, effectively killing him by means of acromantulas."

"What?", he asked, completely puzzled, completely stunned. "I haven't seen my father since I came here."

There was a scared little boy sitting there. Hermione saw it immediately. "When did this happen, by the way?"

"Yesterday. Between the hours of twelve and two", an auror replied gruffly.

Hermione looked interestedly at the young man. He didn't seem overly happy with Shacklebolt's way of dealing with such things. And the more she saw, the more she realised that probably Shacklebolt had during his, erm, reign, put the wrong people into prison – those who were probably innocent, probably not, those who had done little things were probably spending a lot longer in Azkaban than those who had really done something evil.

"Minerva McGonagall was at our house", Draco said softly, looking on the floor. "You can ask her. She was there. She came to our house at around 9.30 and stayed a very long time", he sighed, "Millie made dinner. And she stayed for a while after that."

"That woman can talk if she sets her mind on it", Hermione muttered – having been the victim of such a bout of – maybe loneliness – on the older witch's part.

"True", another auror grinned.

"Can you produce her?", Shacklebolt asked glumly.

"Hermione, can I have access to a floo or an owl or something?", he asked – apparently scared to death by the Minister. Why?

Why? She wondered and wondered the same thing over and over. That proud young man so scared of someone else. He, who had never been scared of anything.

She sighed and stood behind Draco, a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Both."

"He'll stay here", Shacklebolt boomed. "You can get her."

* * *

Hermione ran her hands through her hair and groaned. Of course the Headmistress wasn't at the school. Of course the owl had not returned yet. And Severus had gone back home and would bring Jack back when she told him he could. And only then.

She picked up the mobile phone and dialled his number quickly.

* * *

Sometimes, he thought, it would be really nice to be a father. And Jack, the little one, seemed to have really taken to him. It wasn't, somehow, beneath him, to lay flat on the floor and let the little man crawl over him – and have Letitia giggle like that at the sight.

"Cara, my pronto", he called, picking Jack from his chest and sitting him on his stomach.

She laughed, and handed it to him, while the toddler lay flat down again – the little brown, slightly curly head pressed against his chest and tiny hands fisted in his shirt.

"Pronto?", he spoke into the phone.

"Pronto!", Jack replied – then fell silent again, obviously listening to something in Severus' chest.

"Severus, it's me", Hermione said gently.

"Your son seems to enjoy playing with me."

She laughed softly – a little nervously, he thought. "That's good to hear. "Do you mind keeping him a bit longer? I can't reach Minerva at all and I think I should go to England and try to get Draco out."

"He will be out", he replied – only slightly annoyed.

"I know but I don't want him to suffer longer than necessary. Especially since Shacklebolt seems to be really intent on bringing him in."

"Let him bring him in and then get Minerva. She's always good to have on your side", he tickled Jack's side and grinned at the little man giggling.

"Mh", she hummed. "I'll be back tonight. Tomorrow at the latest. Can you put him on?"

"Who?"

"My son", she huffed. "I want to talk to my son."

"Only you could have that idea", he laughed, but, almost instantly, held the phone to Jack's side of the face.

__


	46. Love

_**The usual disclaimers apply. And I don't own Winnie-the-Pooh either.**_

_**

* * *

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"Here is Edward Bear, coming downstairs now, bump, bump, bump, on the back of his head, behind Christopher Robin. It is, as far as he knows, the only way of coming downstairs, but sometimes he feels that there is another way, if only he could stop bumping for a moment and think of it. And then he feels that perhaps there isn't. Anyhow, here he is at the bottom, and ready to be introduced to you. Winnie-the-Pooh.

When I first heard his name, I said, just as you are going to say, 'But I thought he was a boy?'

'So did I,' said Christopher Robin.

'Then you can't call him Winnie?'

'I don't.'

'But you said –'

'He's Winnie-ther-Pooh. Don't you know what "ther" means?'

'A, yes, now I do,' I said quickly; and I hope you do too, because it is all the explanation you are going to get."

Severus smiled at the boy lying on the bed (he had added a few bars on the right side of his own broad bed – and laid him down there), obviously fighting to keep his eyes open. He knew that Letitia – who had pulled the curtain to her bed aside slightly, was listening raptly as well.

He congratulated himself for having the idea to have bought that book before – actually before he had met Jack officially – just when Letitia had started living with him. It was, in his opinion, for her the best book to start reading in English. Improving her English. And she had read it all through in one go.

Why he had picked that book – and not another book for children, he wasn't sure. Maybe because it had been the only muggle book his mother had ever read to him when he had been a child – back when the world was young and he was simply Severus.

He had kept the old, worn book until the end. Had always been delighted in the stories – simply because it was so simple, so full of fantasy and it didn't require him to think – it was (for him) one of those truly magical books he could delve into – forget the horrors he was living in.

And he hoped, really hoped, that Jack loved those stories as well. And judging by the way the mini-man had snuggled to him – close to his chest, and listened, he did.

His chest constricted when Jack smiled at him – just smiled, without prejudices, without judgement, and only a second later – a second he had made a too-long pause, his face changed.

"Read, Jack!", he said earnestly, his little forehead in a frown.

"Read, babbo!", Letitia used the same annoyed tone.

"Read, babbo!", Jack repeated, and his little fist pounded into Severus' chest.

"Your wish...", he chuckled.

"Sometimes Winnie-the-Pooh likes a game of some sort when he comes downstairs, and sometimes he likes to sit quietly in front of the fire and listen to a story. This evening -

'What about a story?' said Christopher Robin.

'What about a story?' I said.

'Could you very sweetly tell Winnie-the-Pooh one?'

'I suppose I could,' I said. 'What sort of stories does he like?'

* * *

Hermione hated long-distance apparating – but this was the only way on short notice. And she didn't want Draco to suffer more – Merlin only knew what happened to him at the moment, if he had been thrown into Azkaban (which was, according to rumour still horrible though the dementors were gone), if he was still being questioned. She only knew that he wasn't in Italy anymore.

She closed her eyes briefly, willing the dizziness away. "Bloody hell", she muttered and, shook her head. Horrible feeling.

She looked up at the castle and instantly smiled. Those years she had spent up there were amongst the best in her life. She had been accepted – by more people than ever before (and probably after) and she had had friends back then. Two so very good friends.

One was now her baby – the other someone who didn't even bother to write back when she sent an owl.

She shrugged to herself – tried to shrug off the feeling that basically she was sans friends now and succeeded when an image of Severus popped into her head. She smiled to herself – that was one good thing that had happened to her. Him.

And – as she walked up towards Hogwarts, more images flashed in her mind. Him, smiling at her, taking her hand, his eyes boring into her, looming over her with that sly smirk, about to ravish her, brushing a tendril of hair from her sweaty forehead, smiling, holding her in his arms, kissing the tip of her nose, carrying Jack through the streets, showing him the sights, explaining architecture to him, not caring that the little one didn't understand, hugging Letitia carefully when he thought nobody was watching, defending his daughter's honour against George Weasley, looking at the teenager with a love in his eyes that she hadn't seen before, looking at her with an affection in his eyes that she had certainly never seen before.

It was clear to Hermione in that moment that he – Severus Tobias Snape – was the one for her. The thought was just in her mind. Suddenly, like a flash of lightning it was so clear – she loved him. She loved him and she wanted to be with him. For a long long time.

She still smiled (actually rather beamed) – when a large, hairy man came towards her and she laughed out loud when he broke into a run.

"'ermione!", Hagrid boomed and instead of stopping in front of her, he picked her up, spun her around and refused to put her down.

"Hagrid, put me down!", she laughed and coughed when he hugged her so hard she could almost feel her ribs crack.

"What're ya doin' 'ere?"

"Looking for the Headmistress", she answered, glad to be back on her feet finally.

"She's not 'ere", he replied, smiling gently.

"Merlin", she groaned, "and where would I find here?"

He shrugged. "Dinnt say", he said apologetically.

She sighed. Then shook her head. "Any ideas? It's really, really urgent."

"Nah, sorry."

* * *

And suddenly, he was gone. Dragged away. And she only got an owl that he was held in the Ministry because his father had disappeared – and because they suspected him to have anything to do with it.

He didn't – she knew. She had been with him 24 hours a day. They had never left each others side. It was as simple as that.

Besides – who said that he had really disappeared? Lucius had a way of making people believe one thing – when the exact opposite was true.

So – if he hadn't really gone and was – because of that – doing quite bad things right now, without anyone expecting? If he had just used the Minister? Again?

Millie tried breathing deeply – and failed. Panic was seizing her. Fear for Draco – who was afraid right now, she knew. And yes, she was afraid that somehow, this was all a plot to get to her – that they were trying to find her – that Lucius was making Draco tell him where they were.

No, no, she was being irrational. She needed to get a grip. And maybe help.

And the only person she could think of at the moment had told her that she was going away for three days – only the Hebrides – but still. The owl there would take a while (though Merlin only knew why they took longer to some places than others – she had often wondered why an owl to Berlin took longer than one to The Hague (even though that was closer). But she suspected it was just the mystery of owls.

Nevertheless, she took some parchment and a quill.

_Minerva,_

_the Ministry's got Draco because allegedly, Lucius has disappeared. Don't know what to do._

_Millie_

She tied it to Draco's owl's leg and sent him off. Hoping it would be fast.

* * *

It was a calm night – and yet, he didn't sleep well. Constantly, he checked if Jack was breathing evenly, if Letitia (who had, for the first time, left the curtain open when she slept) was breathing evenly, if both were sleeping as they should.

Stupid him – stupid, stupid. Since when did he care so much?

Probably spending two years and eleven months spent with only the contact to people in markets and the occasional landlords or -ladies had mellowed him. Maybe being away from the dark, chilly dungeons, out of the black robes, away from people who tried to run his life.

Maybe, Letitia and Hermione were the ones who had done the trick. Both of them, maybe.

And Jack – little fellow was more than cute and he wondered if Harry had been this way. Probably. He had only met him once – briefly – and then he was completely focused on his mother. Not on the baby. He smiled a lot when he was up – babbled, toddled, tried to run (failed, mostly and fell on his bum), crawled all over him, listened intently when he was reading, looked at the pictures.

Maybe Harry had been that way. Maybe. Until his relatives had their hands on him. By now, he honestly believed that Harry had made the right decision in taking the potion – he had a great childhood up until now.

And yes, if Hermione let him, he would play a role in the little one's life. He would do his best to teach him things, would buy him things, a bigger toy broom as soon as he was ready, books, toys, stuffed animals. And he would learn what to do with children. If Hermione allowed him – he wanted to be a kind of father to him. If she allowed him.

If she wanted him to be in their lives.

When he looked at little Jack, touched his baby hair gently, he knew that he didn't want to be away from him – even though he didn't know a lot about children, little children, that was. And not wanting to be away from him – meant – no, did it?

Yes, it meant that he wanted to be with her also. Yes. Yes, he did.

He wanted to be with the two of them. He wanted to give Letitia the chance to grow up in a sort of family – even if they didn't live together. He wanted to four of them – somehow – together.

It was a thing he could have never imagined with any other woman.

But with her – Hermione. He smiled. She was an amazing woman – he knew.

And his feelings. What were his feelings?

When he looked at the boy, he felt his stomach clench, his chest constrict, his smile broadening. And he knew that there was more than affection for him – that he had begun to love the boy during the time he had spent with him.

Love.

Love?

He groaned quietly. Yes. He loved the little boy.

And Letitia. Of course he loved Letitia.

But that was one kind of love.

Hermione?

If he did love her, it would be a different kind of love.

And did he?

Did he?

He closed his eyes and searched his own mind – his own emotions. He concentrated hard on her (it wasn't hard seeing her face flash in front of his closed eyes, actually) and he had to bite his lip – he had probably never been so overwhelmed by emotions. Never.

"I love her", he whispered softly. "I love her."

* * *

Hermione knocked on the door to the cottage. It was beautiful. Quaint but lovely. Roses outside. Whitewashed. A fence.

Very – domesticated.

Millie opened the door only a crack and peeked outside.

"Hermione", she squealed.

"Hi", she grinned. "Can I come in?"

Millie nodded, looked furtively around – and stepped aside, banging the door close, locking it even.

"Tea?", Millie asked nervously.

"Sure, thanks", Hermione nodded. "I spent the night at a B&B and the tea wasn't what I'm used to."

"A B&B, why?", Millie asked, looking over her shoulder as she walked into the kitchen.

"Draco. And Minerva. And I hate apparating long-distance."

"Huh?", she looked, even more nervous now.

"I guess you heard that Draco was arrested?", she began and when she saw Millie, in the kitchen (beautiful), nodding, she continued, "they could pinpoint the time when Lucius' robes were found..."

"His robes were found?"

She nodded. "You didn't know?"

"I only know that allegedly, Lucius has disappeared."

Hermione shook her head. "They found his robes and his broken wand in the forbidden forest. Those are definitely his robes and it's most definitely his wand. Broken to bits. He is dead – eaten by those acromantulas, apparently. And they..."

"Took Draco because they thought he lured him there?", Millie asked, wide-eyed and her hands shook as she filled the kettle with water.

"Yes. But – as I said, they could pinpoint the time – and it turns out that apparently Minerva McGonagall was here during that time."

"The day before yesterday?"

Hermione nodded.

"She was here all day long."

Hermione smiled. "Good. Now I only have to find her."

"I sent her an owl. She's with her aunt's on the Hebrides."

"Aunt? Minerva McGonagall has an aunt?", Hermione grinned. "Really?"

Millie nodded. "I sent her an owl but it's going to take a while."

"That's why I didn't get a reply already", Hermione sighed – relievedly.

"They always take longer up there", Millie shrugged. "Did you speak to Draco?"

She shook her head. "Only briefly before they took him to London."

"London?"

"He's not in Azkaban."

"Good", she sighed. "He would probably not survive that."

Hermione straightened on the chair she was sitting on, then got up, moving to Millie – who waited for the kettle to boil. "What's the matter with him? He seemed so scared."

"Did he?", Millie turned around quickly – missing Hermione's nose with her elbow by mere inches. "I knew he would be."

* * *

Hermione wrapped an arm around the woman and hugged her. She needed to get to the bottom of this.

"Why is he so scared?", she asked softly.

Millie swallowed hard. "He, erm, he spent a month and a few days in Azkaban after the war. He never really talks much about this but – the only thing he said was that before he went back there, he would kill himself. And, Hermione, he will if they take him back."

"I wonder what's so horrible about Azkaban."

"What do you mean? It's a prison. When he was there, there were still dementors", Millie pulled away slightly.

"No, no, I didn't mean that – I meant, what's so horrible that he considers suicide. I mean Sev...erm, someone else I know said the same thing", she tried very hard not to blush – very, very hard.

"Sev?", Millie asked – her eyes wide again. "Who?"

__


	47. in Cornwall

_**The usual disclaimers apply**_

_**

* * *

**_

"Sev?", Millie asked, frowning. "Who?"

"What?", Hermione asked – desperately trying to find a way to cover her slip of tongue. No way she was telling her that he was still alive. No way. Absobloodylutely not.

"You said that Sev said the same thing. About Azkaban. Who? Sev...", her mouth fell open immediately. "Severus? Snape? Have you spoken to him? He's dead, Hermione."

Hermione smiled – it was the only thing she could think of doing at the moment, then, she spoke softly. "Severus Snape? Of course he's dead."

"Then who were you referring to?"

"Sev. He's an acquaintance of, erm, the Weasleys. I think a part of the Prewett family. I'm not sure about his first name. I think he is called Severus as well but they only call him Sev", she explained – the blush almost completely gone again. Even though – lying had never been her forte.

"Ah", Millie still frowned. "´Never heard of him."

"He was in Azkaban after the first war. After that he left England and lives now in South Africa. I met him during Christmas last year and he told us about the time."

"I see. A Prewett?"

Hermione shrugged. "I think so."

"Mh", Millicent hummed and turned to the kettle and poured it in a pot.

"I believe he grows wine now, doesn't he?", a familiar voice came from the door and both women spun around spontaneously.

"Minerva!", Millie cried and the kettle – fortunately empty – fell to the floor with a loud bang.

"Minerva", Hermione's replied was a bit quieter, but just as enthusiastic – even though she was currently not hanging in the arm's of the older witch.

Minerva seemed to chuckle into Millie's hair – and winked at Hermione. "I got two very persistent owls. And while Aunt Maude is mad that I left sooner than I should have, it seems I'm needed here."

"Oh, are you ever", Hermione sighed, while Millie was still just clinging there.

Minerva raised her eyebrows and continued to look at Hermione while she stroked Millie's back soothingly. "Want to fill in the blanks?"

"You should testify that Draco was here with you the entire time the day before yesterday."

"He was arrested? Because his father...?"

"Yes."

The Headmistress nodded. "Millie, are you alright?"

The young woman shook her head. "I've just gotten news that I'm pregnant and Draco's arrested and he will not make it when he's sent to Azkaban."

"Pregnant?", both Hermione and Minerva asked at the same time.

"Only four weeks along, but yes. And now he's...and I haven't told him."

Minerva frowned, rolled her eyes, shrugged – all at the same time. She then looked at Hermione with a strange expression on her face – something that she interpreted rightly – or maybe wrongly – as a way of calming Millie down.

"Millie, do you have a potions supply here?"

"Bathroom", she nodded, looking quickly at her.

"I'll go get something."

She darted to the bathroom – and what was that about Severus Prewett? Nobody like this had ever existed. Molly only had one more sister after her twin brothers had fallen – and said sister was somewhere in New Zealand. Or maybe Hawaii. She wasn't too sure. There was no Severus – none at all.

So what was Minerva McGonagall playing at? Telling her that said non-existent person grew wine in South Africa.

She quickly retrieved a mild calming draught (that would probably make her sleep but she remembered that it was safe for children and pregnant women) and was back in a flash in the kitchen where Minerva had apparently put Millie in a chair and had poured three cups of tea.

"Here, drink this", Hermione smiled and gave her the vial, she downed it immediately.

* * *

Levitating Millie in her bed wasn't the problem – getting the smirk of Minerva's face was difficult in comparison.

"Severus Prewett?", the Headmistress asked, in the kitchen again.

"Yeah – don't you know him?"

"I think you should know that I heard the conversation. And the slip of your tongue."

"No slip of the tongue."

"No? You know, when Severus Snape – the only Severus I know – talked once – and he was under a potion so he couldn't control himself as well as he probably wanted to – about his stay in Azkaban, he mentioned that he would never go back there. That he would rather kill himself."

"Interesting", Hermione tried to remain calm – even though, somewhere deep down, she knew that Minerva had a clue. She knew. Somehow. But she wouldn't concede to this. She would never tell.

"Yes, isn't it? I'm just curious to know where he is. And how he got in touch with you?"

"Severus Snape is dead, Minerva", she shrugged.

"Yes. But he is still there somewhere."

"Why?"

"Why what? I don't know why. That depends on which why", Minerva grinned broadly, "Why was his body never found? Because he's still alive. Why was his wand found? Because he wanted people to think that he's dead and a wizard never leaves his wand behind. Why would I suspect he's alive? Because, as simple as that sounds, there is no portrait in my office. And, since my office, that used to be his office allowed him in, he was accepted as a Headmaster. Which entitled him to a portrait. But only if he died. He never did. Why do I think that you know something about it? Because, Hermione, you blushed when you noticed that you mentioned his name. You don't blush if you're speaking of a person that you meant to mention. Enough answers?"

"What?", Hermione looked dumbstruck. "How...I mean..."

"Just tell me if he's fine", she suddenly was earnest.

Hermione bit her lip and ran a hand through her hair – then took a sip of her tea. "Do you think they have something stronger here?"

The older witch raised a single eyebrow. "Accio firewhiskey", she chanted and almost immediately, a bottle of the liquor sailed into her hand. She poured a decent measure into Hermione's teacup and looked at her – waiting. Expecting something. "And?"

Hermione sighed. "He's fine", she said softly. "And he's going to kill me if he finds out that you know."

"I have suspected quite some time that he was alive and I did try and sent some owls but they always somehow came back. I don't know if he just sent them back without touching the letters or if they didn't find him – but I never got any confirmation. Until now. Thank you."

"He doesn't want to be found", Hermione said intently. "Please don't try to contact him. I think he's..."

"Are you two together?", Minerva asked frankly.

"What?", Hermione – who had taken another sip of her tea, spluttered it all the way down her robes – and some even through her nose.

"It's a simple question. Are you together?"

Hermione hid her eyes behind her hands. "Yes. But..."

"I won't tell. Hermione, I waited for his portrait to appear. I waited and waited. I wanted to talk to him. No matter what – I wanted to apologize. I couldn't even go to his grave, because there wasn't one. There was nothing – so I waited for the portrait. I needed to apologize. I still do. I didn't trust him when I should have. When Albus had. I should have and I didn't and he didn't deserve the kind of treatment he got from me – from us. I understand that now but..."

"I still haven't apologized, Minerva", Hermione shrugged. "We've talked about a lot of things but never this. And I think I should have said that I was sorry as well. He rescued us, he saved our lives on more than one occasion. But – believe me – I think he doesn't want to hear it anyway. He tries to forget about it. About all of it."

Minerva frowned – and sighed. "And he's fine."

"I don't think he's ever been better."

* * *

"Ever been better?", she asked, the lines on her forehead even deepening.

"Never. He's happy, Minerva. He adopted a girl, he has taken my son for the time that I take care of the shambles with Draco, he's good to me, he's made..."

"Oh my Merlin – he's the father of the child that George Weasley in so enamoured with?", Minerva gasped.

"How do you know about that?", Hermione asked back, irritated.

She chuckled – it was beyond her understanding that anyone still thought that she was less knowing that Dumbledore had been – he had told her most of the things he knew (not all – and certainly he had left out the more important things – but the gossip – he had shared with her. And she had taken track of all the people dear to her heart. And the Weasleys certainly were very high on her list. As was Hermione (only that she was quite out of reach in Rome – and that apparently, from what she had heard – nothing much happened there, apart from the things with Draco and Millicent. And that was enough for any person to keep track of).

"Molly told me that George owled asking about the proper procedure of wizarding wooing."

"Wizarding wooing? Severus will flip", Hermione replied, rolling her eyes.

"But it is his daughter?"

"The adoption just came through the other day. Letitia is quite excited about it and I think he's quite happy", Hermione explained. "He is a good father to her", she added as an afterthought and quieter than before.

"I always thought he would make one. He's got a soft side to him that nobody's allowed to see, really. That I hadn't seen since...Hermione..."

"Don't give me advice on him", Hermione snapped.

"He needs to be treated gently."

"I said not to give me advice. It was a mistake telling you, I suppose."

"I won't tell", Minerva looked intently at her. "Honestly."

Hermione shrugged. "I will tell him you know and it's up to him what he makes out of it."

"Are you sure this is wise?"

She shrugged again. "I don't care if this is wise. I'm not lying to him anymore. He doesn't deserve it. You should know that. You tried to kill him."

"I was protecting the school and the children in my care."

"He did that. You might not have seen it but he did", Hermione replied icily. "Look, go to London, bail Draco out, he deserves it. I'll go back home."

"Home?"

"Home", she glared. "And don't pretend you know anything about him. Don't try to contact him. He deserves this peace."

__


	48. Fight

_**The usual disclaimers apply.**_

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* * *

**_

How she had managed to apparate with a huff – how she came to stand upright in Severus' flat – and how she managed not to double over from the dizziness, she never knew.

Instead, she grinned at her, erm, lover, his daughter, her boy (who grinned and scrambled from his chair towards her), and the cake in front of Letitia.

"Happy birthday!", she exclaimed, pulling her son up in her arms, and, for a second in which she gathered her wits (and her balance), she remained standing, then came towards Letitia and hugged her. "I have your present at home, I hope that's alright."

"It's okay", Letitia replied, smiling. It seemed she had forgiven her. Somehow. "I not expected a present."

"Hermione, what...?"

"Minerva's on her way", she squeezed the girls upper arm and turned to him.

"And?"

"And what? She knows about you", Hermione replied testily, let Letitia return to her cake and poured herself a cup of tea.

"Excuse me?", he asked, his eyes growing bigger.

"She knows about you."

"Did you tell her?", he stood up – the chair clattering to the floor. "Did you tell her, Hermione?", he grabbed her upper arms tightly.

"No. There is no portrait. I simply made a mistake in confirming her suspicions. I didn't tell her. What do you think I did? 'Hello Minerva, did you know Severus is alive?' Thank you very much!", her voice grew louder and she pulled away forcefully. "I thought you trusted me."

"She knows that I'm alive?", he asked, taking a step back and leaning against the kitchen counter.

"She knows, yes, she knows. She knows, okay?", Hermione took another step back as well – ignorant to the stares of Jack and Letitia – the former on the arm of the latter – clinging to her fearfully, almost.

"Why does she know? She just went to you and told you that she thought I was alive?", he snapped, frowning, angry.

"Sort of, yes", she yelled – unable to completely lie.

"Sort of? Sort of?"

"Yes. I talked to Millie and, oh hell, Severus, she said that Draco had said that he couldn't spent one more night in Azkaban and my tongue slipped. I mentioned that someone called Sev – Severus Prewett – a brother of Molly – had said the same. Millie believed me – Minerva had listened to it as well and she didn't. So? She knows there is no portrait and since there is none..."

"I was never a real Headmaster", his voice was dangerously low, threatening almost and she backed off even further.

"She said you were. And you know why?"

"I'm sure the Gryffindor Princess will enlighten me any moment now", he sneered sarcastically.

"Yes, that she will do. Because the office allowed you in. It's as simple as that. Umbridge, no. You, yes. You were a bloody Headmaster. And your portrait is not there."

"So?"

"She wanted to apologize to you. She didn't even have a grave to go to. Because you disappeared and she waited for you portrait. It never appeared", Hermione cried back.

"And?", he still sneered.

"I can't believe I actually defended you. I can't believe I actually told her not to contact you. I can't believe I did all that", she shook her head, glared at him and strode to Letitia, taking the boy out of her arms. "Letitia, I'll call you. I want to give you your present."

"Babbo not home", Jack protested.

"Babbo?", Hermione asked.

"He started calling him that", Letitia replied – almost apologetically.

"Not your babbo, Jack", she said to him sternly and, sparing a glance at Severus – annoyed – she stormed out of the flat.

* * *

"What was that about?", Letitia asked – carefully stepping closer to her adopted father.

He huffed but said nothing, instead had his arms crossed in front of his chest and glared at the floor.

Letitia wasn't sure what to do – so she just went to with her instincts – stood in front of him and looked up, her arms finding their way around him somehow. "Who is Minerva?", she asked quietly.

He merely shook his head – and wore that sad look on his face again – the same he always showed her when she asked him a question about his past. Most of the time, however, he still answered her. In a kind of way. Never in full sentences, never telling the whole story, but she always got enough snippets to actually understand what he was talking about.

"Babbo?", she asked, and patted him on the back, "is there anything I can do?"

He smiled weakly. "No, cara. Nothing. Minerva – she is Headmistress at the school I used to work. We were good friends once."

"And now?", she asked, glad that he opened up some.

"Now...I don't know. She tried to kill me."

"Really?"

He nodded. "She didn't know who I was anymore. But I believe Hermione when she says that she wants to apologize."

"Minerva wants to apologize?"

"Yes."

She nodded in understanding. "I would want to apologize. When I try to kill you. And there's no reason to do it."

Severus wrapped his arms around his daughter (she felt like his daughter already) and pressed his lips against her hair. "I know."

"Why don't you write her?", Letitia asked innocently.

"Why don't I write her? Didn't you just hear me?"

"I did", she nodded, clinging to him. "But you also said that you understand why she wants to apologize. So if you write her, it's your terms."

"Huh?"

The girl shrugged. "If she means it – well, if she really wants to say that she's sorry, she will do that. Sooner or later. And if she writes you, you are, erm, obliged, to do anything. If you write first, she is. And it makes you better man", she grinned, pressed her chin hard against his chest and poked his sides lovingly.

He – he merely raised a single eyebrow.

* * *

She stood by the window - watching the birds fly by and waited. It seemed like an eternity even though she knew it was barely five minutes since she'd arrived.

She knew that it was an enchanted window - make believe. The sky wasn't real, the fluffy white clouds weren't real, the birds weren't real, the street below wasn't real. Nothing was. Still, she stood and waited.

He should be free soon. Like one of those non-real birds out there. She would take care of that. And she would take care of the fact that most likely, Kingsley had let some of his thugs – erm, aurors – go overboard with the interrogation again. That boy simply didn't know when to end. And what ends were acceptable in finding out something.

But this time – she would be there – and she would use her influence. Besides, there were so many capable men and women out there who would make a better Minister. Who would be fair.

And who would allow someone like Draco to live his own life. Not to be judged by the misdeeds of his father.

Severus – finally she understood.

He lived – as a matter of fact – free as a bird down there in Italy with Hermione and his adopted daughter. He didn't have anything to fear by the Ministry, by the Minister – just because they still thought him dead.

She didn't dare to think what would happen if he would return those days. Most likely an overdose of misbrewed Veritaserum – which would make him tell the truth – and spill all of his secrets without being asked – most likely an overachieving auror whose wand twitched and who would probably use an acceptable (Ministry-approved) method of getting the _truth_ out of him.

No – that wouldn't do at all.

He was safe in Italy with Hermione. He was safe down there in the anonymity of this large city where nobody knew him. He had to stay there.

She was pulled rudely out of her thoughts when Draco stumbled towards her – sporting the beginning of a shiner.

"Oh Merlin", Minerva muttered as she looked at him – shoulders slumped, the blonde hair dull and a bit lank. "Draco?", she asked, motioning him to her. "Let's get you home."

He nodded – and said nothing. Instead, the Headmistress took his arm – and just as she wanted to walk out of the Ministry with him to side-along apparate, the Minister himself came striding towards them.

"Minister Shacklebolt", Minerva said coldly.

"Madame McGonagall", he replied just as icily.

She glared at him – and wrapped her arm protectively around the former Slytherin. "You can't get away with everything", she hissed, then strode off.

* * *

"What happened?", Minerva asked as soon as they were on their way to their cottage.

"The usual way of interrogation", he replied solemnly. "Nothing worse than usual."

"Nothing worse than usual. Nothing worse than usual", she muttered, glaring angrily. "Shall I call Poppy to let her run a scan on you? Shall we bet on how many bruises and broken bones you have this time?"

"No broken ones", he shook his head. "And only two or three bruises. It's not too bad. Really, it isn't."

"You shouldn't have a single bruise. You should be asked where you had been and nothing more. There is no way for physical interrogation as he calls it."

"Is my father really gone?", Draco asked – changing the topic.

"It looks like it. At least his wand and his robes are gone. Someone faked your handwriting – that's why you were held. But the magical signature and the last spells performed with a wand there could be dated quite precisely. And I was with you. The Minister knows not to mess around with me", her tone was fierce – as was her facial expression.

"He's really gone?"

"I wouldn't come out of hiding yet, Draco. But it looks like it."

He sighed. "Really", he stated, didn't ask.

"Yes. Now, get home to your wife – we gave her a mild Calming Draught earlier and she should still be sleeping."

"Thanks Minerva. Honestly."

"Quite alright", she smiled and squeezed his hand quickly.

"No, I mean it."

"I'm not through with the Minister yet. This is not his private playground. And just because he's not an auror anymore doesn't mean that he can torture anyone who he suspects of committing a crime – just because he could when he was an auror", she replied fiercely – and with another squeeze – she disapparated.

* * *

"George!", Hermione exclaimed, seeing her friend in the foyer of the embassy – sitting on the floor, his face scrunched up in concentration. "What are you doing?"

"Ever wooed wizard style?", he asked – annoyed, exasperated, irritated, vexed.

"I'm a girl", she grinned, pushing her chest forward after she had put Jack down who ran towards his best play-mate.

"So? Okay – have you ever been wooed wizard style?"

Hermione shook her head. "No, I don't think so. Ron didn't woo me and Severus – no. I thought he was a muggle until quite late."

"Then you have no idea how difficult this is", he grunted and threw a daisy across the foyer – which Jack picked up and brought back to George.

"Brilliant child you have there", he complained, but cuddled Jack nevertheless.

__


	49. Letters

_**The usual disclaimers apply**_

_**The last letters before the three stars and in Italics are the ones sent. The others will probably be burned by now. **_

_**

* * *

**_

Minerva,

yes. Yes, I am alive. I know that your former favourite student blabbed on me and that you know.

* * *

Minerva,

from what I heard, Hermione Granger

* * *

Minerva,

I know Miss Granger told you about the fact that I'm alive

* * *

Minerva,

* * *

Minerva,

thought you'd never see that handwriting again, eh? Well, you

* * *

Minerva,

my adopted daughter forced me

* * *

Minerva,

I'm alive. I thought you should know.

* * *

Minerva,

because of the fact that I love Hermione

* * *

Minerva,

I live in Rome now

* * *

Headmistress,

damn bloody shit

* * *

Minerva,

I'm sorry that

* * *

_Minerva McGonagall,_

_Puddlemere United will never win the Championship. And neither will the Harpies. I know you've been waiting for either of those teams to win for a long long time, but it will never happen._

_I haven't had the chance to hear of Hogwarts Quidditch but I sincerely hope that Slytherin wins once in a while. I cannot believe they made you Headmistress. Poor Slytherins – will suffer even more under your reign of terror._

_Sincerely,_

_Severus Snape_

* * *

Severus,

you stupid, stupid boy.

* * *

Severus,

why in the name of everything that's sacred did you run away like this? Severus, why?

* * *

My boy,

when your mother told me

* * *

Snape,

you bloody bugger do you know what's happened here after you'

* * *

Severus,

I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.

* * *

Severus,

Puddlemere won the last seven games. Their seeker is actually better than Pot

* * *

_Severus,_

_Puddlemere United won the last seven games and I have never been surer that they will win the Championship. Care for a wager? 3 Galleons say they'll win. The Harpies, oh well, let's not talk about them at all._

_As for Hogwarts Quidditch, this term, we haven't had any games yet, due to an epidemic of dragon pox, but last years was quite interesting. I think you'll be happy to know that Gryffindor did not win the Cup. But you'll be sad to know that the winner is neither Slytherin. No, for the first time since 1933, Hufflepuff won the Quidditch Cup. They have an amazing new seeker, a third year called Frank Danes who managed to catch the snitch in two games even before anyone could score any other points. Quite boring games but efficient._

_Unfortunately, Slytherin came in second, beating Gryffindor 30:210 and Ravenclaw 10:180._

_Best etc,_

_Minerva_

* * *

Minerva,

I'm glad to hear about

* * *

Minerva,

let's be honest, the

* * *

Minerva,

find 20 Euros enclosed. That should be the equal to 3 Galleons. Unfortunately, in Italy...

* * *

Minerva,

I've spoken to Hermione. She says to tell you that she's treating me well and that you don't have to worry. I don't know why she says that but she said that I will understand. I've not tried Legilimency on anyone since I've acquired a new wand. It's part of my former life and I want no part of it anymore.

* * *

Minerva,

I needed to get away. When that snake bit me and I knew that Potter thought I was dead, I realized this was my chance. I realized that I only had to take the anti-venom and that I had to keep my head down for a while and then, I thought I could return. But life was more difficult as a muggle than I thought. I've fought hard, Minerva. I fought for respect, for money, for a life outside the wizarding world. And I was paranoid.

* * *

Minerva,

Dumbledore used me. I suspect that you would have to use me as well. Used me without trust me. You didn't, didn't you? You bedded him but he didn't tell you that I was still spying for him. That he begged for death. That I had to. And, at the same time, had to die for myself. Had to die in order to life. Oh hell, Severus, be any more dramatic, will you?

* * *

Minerva,

I'm happy here, more or less. I mean, I've had a fight with Hermione but we made up nicely and even though George Weasley brought a band of daisies for my adopted daughter Letitia and you know what that means. The poor girl is only 16 after all and she has this past. I need to protect her, do you understand?

* * *

_Minerva,_

_thank you for the Quidditch results, I am very grateful. Even after three years in the muggle world, one misses that bloody game. Please find enclosed 20 Euros. I couldn't get hold of Galleons here in Italy so I this was the next best thing. I think Gringotts will exchange them without problems. Miss Granger has given me the Daily Prophet to read and to my astonishment, Puddlemere will actually win._

_I have heard as well (thank George Weasley, who is wooing my daughter – please discourage him, she is only 16 after all) that there are voices against Shacklebolt as Minister. A lot of voices. Miss Granger even mentioned that someone even thought loudly about getting the Order back together. Well, Minerva, I must say, I am glad._

_Sincerely,_

_Severus._

* * *

_Severus,_

_I still wonder about Lucius Malfoy. There are rumours here that he's not dead at all, but I doubt it. I've tried to convince people that he's gone for good and even the youngest Malfoys believe me. Millicent Malfoy is quite happily pregnant and when she told Draco, he apparently burst into tears. Did you know that Lucius made her lose a baby before? I do not know what hex he used but she lost it. It was a mess of blood and we were lucky that Poppy Pomfrey could safe her. I know you remember Millie from the time when – well, you know._

_She's a good girl and she deserves this happiness. This little family._

_Like you do. I am sorry that I didn't trust you. I'm sorry that chased you away. I'm sorry that I did not believe Albus when he told me that you could be trusted. I'm sorry that I did all those things. I'm sorry, Severus._

_Please forgive me._

_Minerva_

* * *

_Minerva,_

_when have I ever laid my heart on my sleeve? Ever since I got my adopted daughter Letitia, I have been more open with my feelings, thoughts, emotions then ever before. This tiny slip of a girl pulled down a lot of walls inside of me and she helped me rediscover who I am._

_Yes, your Albus used me. And you would have used me. For the greater good, aren't I right? I couldn't do this any longer. I left my life. I left Severus Snape behind. I left the person behind who spied, the person who was snarky and a bastard. I couldn't be that person any more. I only wanted to be me, who ever that was._

_And that, I am now, I think._

_If you find a spare minute, I wouldn't mind seeing you._

_Sincerely,_

_Severus_

* * *

_Severus,_

_will be at St Peter on Thursday at 8 in the morning. Meet me in front of the second column on the left, if you like._

_Yours,_

_Minerva_

__


	50. Family?

_**The usual disclaimers apply.**_

_**Dedicated to tatjana88 – for reading straight through (almost!)**_

_**

* * *

**_

He made an effort – not because he wanted to but because Letitia forced him. Once again. Sometimes, late at night, when he was awake, when he couldn't sleep because so many things were running around in his head – he watched the girl – the tiny little young girl and he felt his heart swell seeing her sleeping so peacefully.

And he wondered more than once how she always managed to make him do things. Getting a trim, buying a new shirt (which she ironed), shaving, scrubbing his face, cutting his nails.

He stared at himself in the mirror – no, he wasn't pale anymore. He had a healthy colour and with the grey streaks on his temples, and his fixed nose, he looked almost nice. Well – no but definitely better than he had five years ago.

"Letitia, I'll be going", he told the girl sitting tiredly over her coffee. "Be good."

"Hmpf", she simply said and got up lazily, kissed his cheek and then sat back down.

"Or you'll go back to bed", he muttered, wondering how it would be when school started again in another three weeks. She could never be up in time.

He grinned – and apparated behind a column on the Saint Peter's Square. He liked it there – and by now, just before eight, there were hardly any tourists around and the sun wasn't as hot as it would be within the next two hours.

Leisurely, he strolled up through the metal detectors and up the stairs towards the huge church. The second column on the left – yes. There she was.

Minerva McGonagall. In a chequered, knee-length, old-fashioned muggle dress. She wrung her hands – and seemed a bit nervous.

Minerva McGonagall nervous? That was an oxymoron if he had ever heard one. But she had her eyes scrunched up and looked rapidly around, obviously looking for him and yet – the evil streak in him made her wait – made himself hide in the shadows for a while longer, observing her. Seeing her walk two steps to the left – then back to right in front of the column, leaning against it, then the same routine.

* * *

He would not come. He would not be there. He had played a trick on her.

No – not showing up wasn't like him – he had always been the most punctual one – always on time – always – reliable. Reliable.

Twenty minutes. She would wait until twenty past eight. Then she would leave. Well – she would go see Hermione. She would have to make the best of the fact that she was in Rome already – and probably Hermione could enlighten her then why he hadn't shown up. If he wouldn't.

She took two steps to the right and smoothed down her dress. Damn muggle clothes. They were so bloody uncomfortable. And the shoes – they hurt.

She grimaced and leant back against the pillar. Eight twelve. Eight more minutes for him to show up.

Minerva crossed her arms over her chest and huffed, earning a glare by a tourist. Apparently, she was in the way of a perfect photo. But no, she didn't mind.

She huffed again and turned slightly. The sun was quite bright already.

"Hello Headmistress", a silky voice behind her said softly.

She spun around rapidly, and found herself facing – an almost stranger. She stared at the straight nose, the short hair, and the faint smile on his lips – the healthy tan – and the dark eyes.

She made a choking noise – something she hadn't made in quite some time and lunged forward.

"You silly, silly, silly boy", she whispered, clinging tightly to him and she barely realized that he had brought his hands up to her back as well – patting her gently. "Silly boy. Disappearing like this", her voice got louder, a little more hysterical and she pulled away – cuffing him on the ears. "What the blazes were you thinking?", she looked at him – and couldn't hold back on the tears that had been threatening to fall, almost since she had gotten his letter.

"Minerva!", he growled and stepped away from her hands that were beginning to claw at his shirt.

She merely stared at him one more time – then smiled. "You look good", she remarked hoarsely.

He nodded curtly and said – nothing.

"I'm glad you agreed to meet me", she continued, grinning broadly, tears spilling over.

"Stop crying, woman", he groaned and took her arm gently. "There's no need to cry."

She tried to glare at him – but with misty eyes it was more difficult than usual. "I was so..."

"Later", he stopped her – and took her arm tightly – apparating them away.

* * *

"Ciao Hermione!", Letitia smiled and let her babbo's girlfriend inside the flat, Jack toddling behind her, holding tightly onto Hermione's skirt.

"I'm here on behalf of George", Hermione grinned – and handed her an armful of gerberas. "Apparently wizarding wooing consists of buying tons of flowers", she continued, and looked around the flat – it was full of flowers, a band of daisies hanging on the wall above Letitia's bed, a bouquet of tulips (though Merlin only knew who George had managed to get them in August in Rome or England), three white roses together with a lot of green stuff – and now, thirteen pink gerberas.

"What is it about?", Letitia asked, and looked for yet another vase.

Hermione shrugged and sat down on a chair, pulling her son on her lap. "I don't know. Have you asked Severus?"

Letitia snickered. "He said he didn't even want to think about it and if Giorgio continues, he will personally turn him into a flower." She looked at Hermione, winked and took the baby from her lap. "But I haven't seen Giorgio in a while. Is that part of it? Babbo wouldn't say."

Once more, Hermione shrugged. "I think so. I think he has to stay away for at least a month - to make sure that his intentions are honourable."

"Hmpf", she muttered and sat with Jack on the floor, playing with a little red ball. "Babbo was quite nervous today."

"Babbo home!", Jack got up and unsteadily walked over to his mother, tugging on the hem of her skirt. "Mummy, babbo see home."

"I have no idea why he still calls Severus babbo", Hermione shook her head.

"It's confusing", Letitia grinned and crawled up to the baby, tickling him from behind. "Jack, Severus, babbo – all the same. And he probably chose the simplest."

"But he..."

"He likes it. He would never say, but he does", Letitia laughed with the giggling child. "Loves Jack."

Hermione squinted. That was one thing she had not expected – Severus Snape loving Harry Potter. Even though Harry Potter was not quite Harry Potter anymore – but rather a smart, lively, cute little boy. And that smart, lively, cute little boy had managed to sneak into everyone's heart – Severus' included. Probably his more than anyone else's.

She had seen the two together – and, even though it surprised her – there was a chemistry between them.

There was a companionable silence between the two of them, only Jack was talking, telling a story that neither of them understood – and Hermione thought that this was extraordinary.

Within two months, she had gotten an entire family. A son (even though she had him a bit longer), a sort of niece/daughter with built-in babysitter, and a loving father to those children – who probably even liked her. Or more than liked her.

After that tiny fight about Minerva (and the lovely making-up), she was very tempted to tell him how she felt, that she was incredibly indubitably in love with him, that she might even love him, that she wanted to be with him for a long, long, long, long time to come. But somehow, her courage had failed her. And the way he had looked at her – somehow, it had felt as if he had wanted to say the same thing – and that for once, he wasn't a brave man. And she couldn't really blame him.

It had been different when he had been Jack and she had been simply Hermione. After all the truths that had come out – that Jack was Severus and that Jack was Harry – it had changed a bit. It was deeper and yet, more careful, more trying to step around the subject.

She looked at the two of them – Letitia and her Jack – playing on the floor and allowed herself to daydream for a moment. A real family – the four of them. Living together. Waking up with Severus every morning.

She bit her lip, then focused on Letitia. "Do you think he would marry me?", she asked quietly.

* * *

"Now, what's all that that I hear about the Ministry?", Severus asked, walking slowly next to Minerva. He had apparated both of them to Ostia – a town on the sea close to Rome.

She stopped, looked at him and, taking her shoes off – stepped onto the beach. "We're close. I have a few people working as aurors who are willing to testify against him but we need someone to bring up charges against him. Without that, my hands are bound."

"And the Wizengamot? Would they really convict him? On what grounds?", Severus asked, refusing to take his shoes off and he looked disgusted at the older witch as she sat down in the sand.

Minerva shrugged. "I cannot allow this to continue, Severus. The entire country, well, the wizarding part is going to the dogs with that Minister. It's getting worse and worse every day. People actually believe that there are dark wizards lurking behind every corner..."

"How many are left?"

"Death Eaters?", she asked, boring her toes into the sand. "I like the beach when it's warm."

"Never mind that. How many?"

"If Lucius Malfoy is really dead – then probably around 5. Crabbe, definitely, Parkinson, Ritter, Quimal, probably. We could never confirm it. He pledges the Imperius."

"Quimal? Definitely a Death Eater", he replied fiercely. "And Parkinson? He isn't. Never believed in it. Had to be because of his wife and her family. His heart was never in it."

"Mh", Minerva hummed, turning slightly and grabbing his arm tightly. "Any others?"

"I don't know who survived, Minerva. And I'm not sure I want to get involved."

* * *

"Marry you?", Letitia frowned. "He asked you?"

"No, he didn't ask me. Otherwise I wouldn't have to ask you, would I?", she asked, pouring herself another cup of tea. "I was just thinking about it."

"About a family, right?", Letitia smirked and scooped Jack in her arms and on her hip. "Us four living together? Thinking about that?"

Hermione nodded, squinting. "How did you know?"

"I sort of thought about it before", the girl confessed. "But...wouldn't work."

"Why?"

"Babbo said I cannot take the potion all the time or I get sick. And you live in embassy. So maybe I can stay here and Babbo moves to embassy."

Hermione furrowed her brow. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I think he would marry you", Letitia stated.

"Excuse me?"

"He loves you a lot."

Hermione stood up and paced the room. "You're 16, Lettie."

"Yes."

"Do you know Severus?"

Letitia chuckled. "I think I do."

"Then you do realize that he would not let you live alone under any circumstances."

"But loves you more. And it's completely understood, Hermione. He want to be with you."

"Wants", Hermione corrected automatically.

"Okay, wants to be with you."

"And he doesn't love me more. Differently, maybe, but not more", Hermione frowned.

Letitia sighed and got up to get a biscuit for the baby, who listened raptly to their conversation and watched the two of them intently. The girl, however, remained silent.

"Letitia! Do you understand?"

"Yes, I understand. But don't want to be in the way. Lived alone before. Doesn't matter", she shrugged. "Would move in with you but cannot take potion."

Hermione huffed. "Then we will move somewhere together. I don't have to live in the embassy. I could go to work there every day like everyone else."

Letitia began to glow somewhat. "Would you do that?", she asked, clearly unbelieving.

"Of course I would", Hermione replied testily. "And seriously, if he had to choose, he would choose you, not me."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"No. Because he is in love with you."

"Yes. Because he loves you. Because you're his daughter. And he has a responsibility. Because he has to take care of you, wants to take care of you. And so do I."

Letitia looked up, startled. "You do?"

"Of course I do. Silly girl."

The silly girl grinned, sat Jack with his biscuit in his chubby hands on the floor and ran into Hermione's arms. "Don't want to get rid of me?"

"Why would I want that?", Hermione asked – hugging her back.

"Really not?"

"No. You're part of my family and Jack loves you and Severus loves you and I love you."

Letitia replied – with a chocked back sob and a few happy tears.

* * *

"Why not, Severus? Why don't you want to get involved?"

"Are you trying to get me to play a part in your scheme about the Minister?"

Minerva shook her head. "Not if you don't want to. But it would be a big help. You do know the right people, you know how the things work..."

"And pretend you don't, woman", he growled, "you've been around a fair few years."

She poked him in the ribs with one finger and glared. "Are you saying I'm old?"

He chuckled (a sound almost unknown by Minerva). "No, Minerva. I say you're experienced."

"And you're not? You've been a spy for eigh..."

"Don't say it", he interrupted suddenly. "I know how long it was. I don't need to be reminded how long I didn't really live."

"Didn't live? But Severus..."

"No. I was a pawn for too long. I was merely a player in a game I didn't understand. That I never had a chance to understand, that I wasn't allowed to understand. I had to function on orders, Minerva, and on those alone. I made one mistake, it took ten minutes for me to be inducted as a Death Eater. Ten minutes, Headmistress. And I've ended up paying for those ten minutes with eighteen years of a life not lived."

"But you were a Dea..."

"For six months. Six months during which I did nothing but look at people torturing other people – six months during which I was allowed to finish my Potions Mastery and had nothing else to do because He needed an apothecary. Six months. Did you know that I never killed while I was with them? That I never even tortured because I wasn't allowed to go to the rallies with them? Eighteen years in comparison to six months and ten minutes. For once, for once, I want to feel free. I want to be free. I want to get up in the morning and don't want to fear for my life. I want to get up and be myself, be with the people I love. Yes, Minerva", he looked in her shocked face, "I am capable of love. I love my daughter, I love Hermione's son and I love Hermione. I love that little family of mine that isn't even a real family yet. I would gladly die and kill for them. But I will not do that because an insane, paranoid wizard in another country thinks it's fun to torture people to get false confessions out of people. I want my peace. I want to live with Hermione and little Jack and Letitia and want to take them out to dinner, want to play with the little one, want to help Letitia with her school work and want to curl up on the couch with Hermione. Yes, yes, it's out of character for me. I don't care. I've returned home, wherever that was, more than once barely alive. Never again. I will not be a pawn again, I will not participate in any plan you might have to turn whoever you favour into..."

"This was never my plan, Severus", she swallowed hard and her gaze was almost longing – and very sad. "You deserve this life. But I thought you might help with advice, nothing more."

"Advice?", he frowned, "I cannot give advice. The advice could have been given by Severus Snape. But Severus Snape is dead. He didn't die in the Shrieking Shack – make no mistake. He died the night I pledge my allegiance to Dumbledore, the night I took my first Unbreakable. That night, Severus Snape died – after that, I was merely a marginal, black, little figure in the whole picture of things. A tiny little black-cloaked idiot who thought he was doing something good, but in fact was just used for the greater good. Never again, Minerva, never again. All I want now is to go home, see my daughter, my", he hesited, "girlfriend and her son. That's all I want."

Minerva nodded slowly and bent her knees sideways, sitting on the side when quite suddenly, she wrapped her arms around her former colleague, her former student and hugged him hard. "I understand, silly boy. I understand completely."

__


	51. Proposal

_**The usual disclaimers apply.**_

_**

* * *

**_

"What would you like for you birthday?", Severus asked a few days later – a few days before Hermione's birthday – and coincidentally, the first day of school. He lay – as he had told Minerva – curled up with her on the couch – her reading, and him, well, he was carding his finger through her hair, watched Jack colour his floor (not on his floor – his floor), ran his finger through her hair – over her shoulder, breathed her scent in deeply – waited for Letitia to come home from school (and if she was ten minutes late – he would go look for her – he certainly didn't trust George Weasley, despite the fact that he really did woo her wizard style – flowers, chocolate, poems, the works) and generally, generally, Severus Snape simply enjoyed his life.

"What would I liked for my birthday?", she asked suddenly, looking up, craning her neck from where she had lain her head on his chest.

"Yes, what do you want for your birthday?"

"I didn't know you knew when my birthday was", she shook her head – smiling curiously.

"I have a rather good memory", he smirked. "Granger, Hermione Jean, September 19th 1979. At school your wand was vine wood with dragon heart string. But now it's", he picked her wand up and inspected it, weighing it in his hand, "oak and..."

"Unicorn hair", she grinned and pressed a quick kiss on his lips.

"And your patronus is an otter", he finished, pulling her almost on top of him. "Now. Will you tell me if there's anything you want for your birthday?"

She smirked and wrapped her arms around his neck, carefully shifting on his lap. "You."

He chuckled, pinched her bottom and fixed her with his gaze. "You already got me", he whispered.

"I do?"

"You do", he cupped her back of her head with his large hand and pulled her face towards him. "I wouldn't be here otherwise", he spoke softly against her lips, then kissed her deeply, his hand roaming her back and her sides, trying not to hit any of those spots that made her giggle immediately (and there were a fair few – he had never met a woman who was so ticklish in the hollow of the knees), his other hand tangling in her hair, grabbing fistfuls and pulled her even closer. Hermione suddenly moved and straddled him, her fingernails grazing his neck, his scalp and suddenly, he felt a rush of air on his chest and noticed that she had somehow managed to open his shirt.

"Hermione", he broke away and looked at her with a smouldering glance.

"Will you marry me?", she blurted suddenly – her hands on his chest, her eyes on him, her lips red and slightly swollen from the snogging that they had just finished.

"Marry babbo!", Jack shouted from where he sat on the floor and drew a large circle with what looked like permanent marker on the hardwood floor.

* * *

Minerva paced the room – this was it. The poor boy – she remembered him back from when he had really been a boy – he had started Hogwarts in – when had it been 82? 83? Not the brightest in the bunch, but a vivacious boy. Unfortunately sorted into Slytherin – he would have made a better Hufflepuff – and now, apparently on the black list of Minister Shacklebolt. And he was her ticket to get him out of the office. Yes – Severus had been right. She had someone in mind for the job.

Not Arthur Weasley – no. He would have been great straight after the war, maybe. And she respected the man above many others but right now, with his growing family (she had just heard that Ronald Weasley had apparently just gotten married to Lavender Brown – dizzy girl – because she was...well – those were maybe just rumours), and the fact that the entire clan was still mourning Fred, no – he wasn't fit.

Not Rubeus Hagrid. She never doubted and she wouldn't for one moment doubt that he would make a good Minister for something. Not of magic. Anything else, yes. Plus, he still wouldn't get the acceptance that was required with him being a half-giant.

The same went for Filius Flitwick. Too small for it.

But there was one – one she trusted a hundred percent to be good at it – even though nobody would believe her at first. But yes, Pomona Sprout would be perfectly brilliant. Always loyal, always on the light side, always more than fair. And a woman.

She would just have to make sure that everyone trusted her enough with this (even though she didn't doubt that one minute). Next year, she would be Chief Witch of the Wizengamot and probably, if she was lucky, Supreme Mugwumpess of the International Confederation of Wizards (if she could win over Hildegard Heine). She had something to say in the wizarding world. Only England seemed to be a bit difficult at the moment.

"Claude Sparham", she smiled and shook the relatively young man's hand. "I'm glad you found the time..."

"Shall we just cut to the chase, Headmistress?", he looked small and scared.

Minerva nodded. "Yes. Go ahead."

"I'll just put it in the Pensieve, shall I?", he asked timidly and when she nodded, he got up and suddenly, silvery whisps were pulled from his mind.

And Minerva knew that with this – she had him. And she could finally help get real peace in Britain. Without fear – without threats.

At least for the time being.

* * *

"Letitia!", a voice behind her called and she turned quickly. "Wait up!"

"Giorgio!", she grinned. "I thought that you weren't allowed to see me for a month."

He grinned stupidly as well – and took her hand gently, "I am. Now. Two weeks no seeing, one month only seeing you every other week."

She shook her head and turned to walk home slowly, him walking next to her. "This is stupid tradition."

George laughed softly and – very sublimely – sneaked his arm around her waist. "I agree. But if I don't do this properly..."

"Babbo said it's stupid and that you should just ask."

"He did not", George stopped suddenly – his arm falling limply to his side.

"No", Letitia asked, "he says it's stupid but he didn't say that you should just ask. He would probably hicks you into next week."

"Hex me?"

"That's it", she still laughed, an open laugh, and laugh that made her step closer and made her take his hand again, "hex you into next week. At least that was what he told Hermione and the older woman."

"What older woman?", George asked, intertwining his fingers with her – but being completely focused on her. His hand just acted on its own.

"Erm – Minerva, I think. She was a teacher at Hoggywarts when babbo worked there."

"Minerva McGonagall?", he asked voicelessly.

Letitia nodded, smilingly. "She was nice. I liked her."

"You met Minerva McGonagall? When? How?"

"She came over to our flat and we went to a trattoria for dinner afterwards. Sometime last week, I think", she shrugged and fell a bit back – her hip bumping against his upper thigh. Yes, she was short, but who cared?

"Minerva knows who Severus is?", he asked incredulously.

Letitia nodded. "Yes. And she told babbo that you're nice and that you should just let you be. I think. But then he..."

"Hexed her?"

"Stared at her", she giggled. "But if I'm sure if you talk to him and Minerva mentioned something like Veriserum, then you should be fine. That's what she told me. And what Hermione told me."

George shook his head and pulled her in an embrace for a moment – only a quick hug – but Letitia knew it would sustain her for a while. Because, if she was being honest, she would fight tooth and nail to being able to be with him. She wanted to go out with him, sit in front of the Colosseum in the evenings, watching as it was lit up in the creepy orange light, walking through the old streets, over the Via del Corso, getting ice-cream and a grappa (for him – she hadn't drunken since her first night in Rome – and she didn't want to remember that), maybe sneaking into the Roman Forum at night – she heard it was really great – and first and foremost – being able to hold his hand like that – being held like that. She really wanted that regularly. Every day.

No mistake, she loved that babbo held her sometimes – often – especially when she had nightmares or when she was sad. She loved the fact that he had rocked her to sleep again a few weeks back when he had first gotten a new wand and she wanted to do a little magic and nothing had happened.

She had been desperate then. Well – it was – with Giorgio being a wizard, babbo a wizard, Hermione a wizard and Jack apparently a wizard as well – weird. She felt left out sometimes, especially when babbo and Hermione talked, and then when they had talked to this Minerva-person.

Sometimes, it overwhelmed her how much of an outsider she was.

Babbo was great at not making her feel like that, babbo made her feel like a real person, an important person – and the same was true for Hermione and for George and Jack. But only if they were alone with her. Not if they were together. As soon as they were together, it was all talk about accio and obliviate and cruciatus and avada something. Or a potion. Apparently, babbo was good at it and he had made some for Hermione that she now took. Whatever that was for.

"Letitia?", George pulled her out of her thoughts.

"Mh?"

"Are you alright? You look sad suddenly", he stated and pulled her to his side once again.

"It's fine", she smiled. If she would talk to someone about this – and she wasn't sure she should – probably not – she would talk to babbo. Odd and as much as she liked Giorgio, she didn't trust him as much. Not yet maybe. "I'm just tired from school and if I don't get home in time, babbo will have a fit."

"And I'd rather not risk that"; he grinned, wrapped his arms once more around her – and apparated (she had learned the word) her home.

* * *

"Marry you?", he asked, wide-eyes, surprised, stunned – all the other adjectives that could apply to this.

"Yes", she replied seriously. "Will you marry me?"

He closed his eyes for a moment, then quite suddenly, pinched himself. "Are you seriously asking me to..."

"Marry me", she replied, exasperatedly. "You know, it's not like the reaction I expected, but will you please just answer my question?"

"If I marry you?", he asked, still quite unbelieving of this whole new turn in the conversation.

"Yes", she sighed. "You know what, I'll ask you again", she rolled her eyes slightly and slipped off his lap – kneeling on the floor. "Severus Tobias Snape, will you marry me?"

And in the exact same moment, Letitia had unlocked the door and stared at the scene incredulously.

__


	52. Happy?

_**The usual disclaimers apply**_

_**

* * *

**_

Severus Snape swallowed hard – there was something in his throat, wasn't there? Something that he couldn't swallow, something that was wedged inside his windpipe. He tried again to swallow and tried to cough and all that came out was a weird, strangled, chocking noise.

He fixed her with his eyes, tried biting on his finger, made that weird noise again and felt utterly helpless.

Hermione though, despite the seriousness of the situation, couldn't help but chuckle and sat quickly beside him, clapping his back. "Don't go Emma Thompson on me now", she said softly and funnily enough – that brought him back.

"Excuse me?"

"Never mind", she giggled and snuggled to his side, holding his hand.

Now that he couldn't look at her anymore, his eyes wandered and suddenly fell on his daughter, who grinned madly. "Letitia, what are you doing here?"

"School was over", she explained, "does she get an answer?"

"Do I get an answer?", Hermione whispered and gazed lovingly up at him.

"You just proposed", he stated and agitatedly, got up, left her falling to her side. "Hermione...Letitia, wouldn't you like to, erm..."

"Giorgio is probably still outside", the girl smirked, "can I go for a cup of coffee with him?"

Severus glared at her, then at Hermione, who had scrambled (with a little difficulty) back up to a sitting position. "An hour", he growled. "And if I find out you're doing something you're not supposed to, I will..."

"Hicks him into next month, yes", she giggled and before he could even find an answer to that, she was out of the door again, only to throw it open again a second later.

He, of course, had turned back to Hermione and when the odd noise of the door startled him, he whipped around, his wand drawn. Letitia, his daughter, only rolled her eyes and held her hand up in a surrendering motion.

"No need to hicks me but will you please just say yes?", she grinned and was gone again.

"Damn girl", he muttered and began to pace the room slowly. He was not used to pacing slowly (was that even possible – somehow, he doubted that, much like it wasn't possible to stride unarrogantly, or probably...no, not important). However, the question had taken him quite off guard – someone had just proposed to him.

No, not someone, Hermione, the woman he loved.

Hermione, the woman he loved had just proposed to him.

And she still sat waiting patiently. Smiling so sweetly.

"Hermione", he began, walking towards her, "I, erm, I cannot marry you."

"What?", she exclaimed and was by his side in a flash. "Why not?"

Hurt was in her eyes – plainly to see. And disappointment.

"Is it because I asked? Severus I mean, you, well, I thought, you know, that probably, erm, you didn't really know and how I and that I, dear me, dear me, I want to say that..."

He smiled and pulled her to him. "Stop babbling nonsense."

"But, I mean wha...have you, do you, I mean, want to leave and me and I, bloody hell, I'm so stupid."

He rolled his eyes and put his finger on her lips – it was the second best method of silencing her anyway. "No. I can't marry you not because you asked. And not because I couldn't but there is a reason."

"Will you tell me then?", she asked hysterically, tears beginning to shine in her eyes as she pulled away and moved quickly to the other side of the room. "Or should I just leave now?"

"You're overreacting", he muttered softly. "And no, I don't want you to leave. Certainly not. Not ever. Please. Hear me out."

She nodded and he walked slowly up to her – and remained standing just in front of her, taking both her hands. "It's not because I'm too macho to let you ask. In fact I thought it was quite nice and I have never been proposed to. But – Hermione – I can't marry you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, but I cannot marry you."

"Why?", she asked, a tear spilling over – kissed away immediately. "Severus, why?"

"Exactly because of that, Hermione."

"Because of what?", she asked frowning.

"Severus Snape cannot get married."

"I'd get married to Jack Torrance then."

He shook his head. "But Jack Torrance isn't the man who loves you."

"Huh?"

"Severus Snape loves you", he said intently and kissed the tip of her nose. "I love you. And you couldn't marry me, because, well, because I don't exist."

"But...", she began and once again, was silenced with a gentle hand on her lips.

"No buts. It would be on paper only, Hermione. Jack Torrance is married to Hermione Granger", he shrugged, "it wouldn't matter – this marriage would be a lie from beginning to end because I cannot marry you. Because I had to use some other name again, because you would be the wife of a non-existent person."

"And now I'm the, erm, well, whatever of a dead person?", she asked shrilly.

He shook his head. "No. Now you're my girlfriend, my witch, my woman. And I am very much alive. Even though nobody knows that."

She shook her head in defeat. "You don't make any sense."

"Let's make it simple then. You're mine. Not Jack Torrance's. Mine. And if we should ever get married, I want you to be Hermione Snape. Not Hermione Torrance."

"We could do that", she suggested, calmer again.

He shook his head again. "No. I have a fake passport. I could only adopt Letitia because of a little Confounding. Otherwise, she still wouldn't be mine. The passport is fine – as long as you don't examine it properly. But if you do – and any person who would marry us would, they would see that it's fake. That it's not even me on the picture."

"Bonding. We could get a bonding", Hermione looked at him.

"We are bonded already, Hermione."

"We're not."

"Not in the traditional sense", he said exasperatedly, "but in so much as that you're a part of my family and I'm a part of your family. And for an official bonding, we have to go to the Ministry. I can see that going down very well."

"But Draco and Millie..."

"You bonded them alright. Because I think you did the correct, proper paperwork, send it to the Ministry and got a nice certificate back that all went well."

"Yes", she nodded.

"Can't do that. Those bleeding certificates know when you're lying. Besides, there is no such thing as a wizard called Jack Torrance."

"You could be a muggle."

"Brings back the problem with the fake passport", he shrugged. "Look, I know you want to get married but I don't see why."

"Why?", she asked, pushing him on the sofa. "Why? Because I want to be with you."

"And we can only be together when we're married?", he asked with a smirk.

"No but..."

"I think we're doing quite well at the moment, wouldn't you?", he said softly, "I do want to be with you for as long as you'll have me but as long as I'm, well, what I am now, I'm afraid I can't marry you."

She nodded and sat down next to him. "Okay"

Hermione hung her head defeatedly and looked at her shoes. "I'll better get going then."

"Where?", he asked, leaning forward.

"Home", she shrugged. "It's, erm, I..."

"Have you not heard me?"

"I've heard you alright, Severus."

He sighed and went on the floor – on his knees. He pushed her hair aside and tucked it behind her ear, while at the same time, pushing her chin gently up with two fingers. He looked her in the eyes, one hand on hers and the other on her thigh. "I love you, Hermione Granger. I want to be with you. I want to live with you. A common-law marriage, if you will. One without the need to get a ton of certificates and the need to get a thousand signatures from either of us. This is just about us, Hermione Granger – you, me, and to a certain extent Letitia and Jack. I want us four to live together. But not married. Imagine the surprise on all the people's face if you told them that you had married – and I'd have to find a constant source of Polyjuice because I know we'd be swamped by Weasleys and Minerva and everything. If we don't make it official..."

"You're just looking for excuses", she said softly.

"No, I'm not. Oh for heaven's sake, if you truly want it, I'd come out of hiding for you and marry you as Severus Snape and declare to the entire world that I love you", he got up heavily and glared into her suddenly shocked face. "You know, it's...", he huffed and stormed to the window – opened it wide and leaned outside. So wide, in fact, that she was immediately afraid and stormed in his direction.

"I, Severus Snape love Hermione Granger!", he shouted out of the open window down onto the street.

"Are you insane!", she shouted back.

"No, I'm not insane. I, Severus Snape...", he began again and suddenly felt his vocal chords stiffen – and no sounds coming out of his mouth.

"You would be killed in England right now if people knew you'd be alive", she scolded him, dragging him away from the window. "What with that Ministry and everyone. Have you gone completely crackers now?"

He shook his head and his gaze softened. He pointed at his mouth and begged silently for her to allow him to talk again.

With a flick of her wrist, the window was shut and pointing her wand at him, muttering the incantation, he could finally speak again.

"I've not gone _crackers_. If you truly want to make it official, then we'll do it right. With the proper papers, with all the certificates and with all the people you want to be there. And for that, I'll go back to being Severus Snape officially. Hell, if you think I'm looking for excuses, fine. No more excuses, no more hiding..."

"If you don't stop, I'll silence you again", she threatened – her tone gentle, her features soft. "I don't want you to come out of hiding. I don't want you to be alive again. I want you for me. And even if they don't put you in Azkaban for a while, you'd be...no, no, I don't want that. I...", she pushed him back onto the couch and straddled him. "I love you, too", she whispered softly in her ear. "And maybe getting married was a dumb idea."

He breathed deeply. "It wasn't a dumb idea. I would do it in a heartbeat if there was a way."

She smiled and kissed the corner of his mouth. "Maybe we'll find one eventually. And then you get down on your knee."

"I promise I will", he smiled and hugged her tightly.

"Fight over", the meek voice of Jack sounded through the room. "Babbo Mummy no fight."

Hermione looked over her shoulder and smiled at her son. "No, sweet, no more fight. And we'll move."

* * *

"Have you seen this?", Hermione asked a week later – a week that had been full of finding a big enough flat (with a cellar, please – Severus wanted to brew again), a week full of nights spent at the embassy or in Severus' flat (depending on his mood – and whether he felt gracious enough to allow Letitia a night or two out with George (poor George didn't know that Letitia had a noli-turbare-meos-circolos-charm on her, which would basically electrocute him if he touched her in any indecent places – and lucky for Severus that Letitia didn't know either)), a week in which Hermione understood his decision. And really – marriage was such an old-fashioned institution.

However, during that week, Hermione had begun to think – and talk – about little Jack and what would happen to him in case something would happen to her.

And Severus had found the solution. Poor clerk at the Italian adoption offices. Being confounded twice in such a short time span. Severus was – at least under Italian muggle law – officially Jack's babbo. And he continued to call him that.

"No, what?", he asked, a sip of his coffee later.

"This", she pushed the paper impatiently towards him and pointed at it.

"Daily Prophet? I wouldn't want to read that thing", he growled.

"You might want to make an exception this time", she smiled. "Minerva really gets what she wants."

"Usually", he muttered, then indignantly, looked down at the page. "Oh my..."

_Ex-Minister Shacklebolt imprisoned in Azkaban_

_Kingsley Shacklebolt, ex-Head Auror, ex-Minister of Magic was taken to Azkaban last night after his short trial. Only a week has passed since we have first heard the accusations of an unnamed civilian who was held in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and was forced to confess to deeds and crimes he had never committed while being tortured by hexes, curses and jinxes on the direct order of the ex-Minister._

_Shacklebolt, always thought of as one of the brightest, most shining wizards on the side of the Light during the war against Voldemort, has apparently gone too far in his pursuit to capture dark, or darkish wizards and witches._

_He was under Veritaserum during the entire trial and confessed to giving the orders to torture and press for false confessions. He also confessed to the murder of one Michael Parkinson, allegedly a former Death Eater and the use of the Imperius Curse on three Aurors who had been reluctant to use this form of interrogation._

_He will serve a 25 year sentence in Azkaban._

_His successor as Minister of Magic is none other than the former Hogwarts Herbology teacher Pomona Sprout._

_See page 2 for the full article on her and page 5 for a commentary on Kingsley Shacklebolt._

"Pomona? Minister of Magic?", Severus chuckled.

"Pomona Sprout", Hermione grinned back at him and took his hand on the table. "I think with her, you needn't be afraid to being taken to Azkaban."

"Don't be so sure about that", he winked and pressed a kiss on her knuckle. "No, I like it here. Not so much rain, a lot of sunshine, it's warmer, good for my rheumatism", he grinned at that, "and besides, I wouldn't want to be anywhere else right now. Anywhere which is not with you."

__


	53. Epilogue

**_The usual disclaimers apply. _**

**_Before we start the Epilogue: Some people did not understand the Emma Thompson reference. Now - if you go and watch Sense and Sensibility (which I would recommend you do!), there's Emma Thompson (amongst other - brilliant - actors and actresses (hint: Alan Rickman: hint). It's a minimal spoiler here (sorry!): A guy proposes to her - and she is so taken back by it that all she can do is making those kind of chocking noises (I think The Vicar of Dibley made fun of that as well...oh my - those are connections there - no, let's not go there...) to which I referred in the last chapter. I hope this cleared this up!_**

**_Now - onto the Epilogue:_**

**_

* * *

_**

"Severus! There's a letter from Ryan!", Hermione yelled down the stairs. The house was, no doubt, lovely (it had been expensive enough – up on Gianicolo - , but the echo from the stone stairs down to her significant other's lab was horrible.

"Excuse me?", he yelled back.

"A letter from your son!", she shouted again and within seconds, he was by her side.

"A letter? Already? School only started yesterday", he stated but pulled the parchment out of her hands and opened the seal eagerly.

_Dear mum and dad,_

"It's typical", he mumbled. "Always you first. If he get an O in Potions again, it'll not be due to you but to me."

"You gave him good genes", she winked and pushed him onto the love-seat, snuggling to him on his lap.

_Hogwarts is beautiful as ever._

Severus harrumphed but said nothing. Of course Hogwarts was beautiful. Even though he hadn't seen in in about 15 years. Something like that anyway.

_I don't know if Lillian's written you but my little sister got sorted into Slytherin as well!_

"I honestly have no idea why both of them had to be Slytherin", Hermione complained.

"Jack's in Gryffindor. And Mattia is. Imagine that. Lucius Mal..."

"You promised never to speak that name again", she admonished. "It's Mattia Weasley. And every Weasley for the last twelve generations or so got sorted into Gryffindor."

"And why is my son friends with him?"

She looked up at him lovingly. "Your son?"

"Yours and mine. Our oldest son", he grinned. "But of course he had to end up in Gryffindor. Jack always was too brave for his own good."

She sighed dramatically. "Just because you always bought him brooms that were too advanced for his age."

"Can you shut up and keep on reading?"

_I went to see Luca yesterday. He's almost as tall as Lillian already and he can't wait to go to Hogwarts. Uncle George said that he will be a Gryffindor but I don't want that. I don't want to drag myself all the way up to Gryffindor Tower just because I want to see my nephew. Did I tell you that people here already found it weird that I'm Luca's Uncle? _

"I would have guessed so", Hermione shrugged. "Comes from having an older sister like that."

Severus shook his head. "It's still odd though. My eldest son in seventh year, my daughter in second year and my grandson a first year."

"And your eldest daughter, thanks to an ingenious potion by you, the Muggle Studies teacher", Hermione laughed. "But who said we were ever conventional?"

"Conventional? Us? Hermione, I'm not even alive", he chuckled. It was still a long standing joke between them – technically – Severus was still dead. Technically, only a few people knew about him. Minerva – the Headmistress, the children – Letitia, Jack, Ryan and Lillian, George – the son-in-law (grumblingly – the son-in-law) and no one else. To everyone else, he was the anti-social long-term boyfriend who had never dared to make Hermione his wife – the one who never took part in social gathering – the one who left his wife alone to bring them to Kings Cross (which wasn't true – he had been there every year – under a different disguise).

"You could change that, you know", she said softly. The same joke over and over again. They both knew that they never wanted to do that. It was perfect the way it was.

"I know. And Pomona is still Minister of Magic, so I really could", he sneered. "But I don't want to. Torrance's Potion's going well – you see my clients, I make the potions, I don't have to let people know I'm alive. It's all..."

"Perfect the way it is", she ended the sentence for him.

_Anyway, the Headmistress already invited me for tea. I swear she gets dottier every year! But she tells me to let you know that she'd quite like to come see you sometime before Christmas and if you're available. I told her that she had to owl (or mail) you herself as I wouldn't know what your plans are._

"What are our plans without any children left at home?", Hermione asked with a cheeky grin.

"No plans. Just breathing freely for once", he bent down and kissed her earlobe before he spoke softly into it, "and making love in every room in the house."

She merely laughed and pulled the parchment back up again to continue reading.

_I have Potions with Merridale next. He's a total bore, dad. I think I'll ask him if I can brew Felix Felicis just for fun. See what he makes of it._

"Your son the potion's prodigy."

"Your son", he whispered back.

_Mum, dad, I miss you already. I miss home, it's so cold here in England. Couldn't you have sent us to school somewhere in Italy? No, I'm only joking. I know it's the best school for witches and wizards there is. _

_Oh, and did I tell you that I'm trying out for Quidditich? Dad, thanks again so much for the new Bolt. It's brilliant and accelerates like wow!_

"Did you send him a broom?", Hermione asked, an eyebrow raised disapprovingly.

He shook his head, grinning slyly. "No, I gave it to him just before he left."

_Mum, don't worry, please, I'll be careful! I'm going for Chaser anyway and that's not too dangerous._

"Not too dangerous? Not too dangerous? Is the boy insane?", she muttered under her breath but felt two strong arms holding her tighter.

"He's not. He just likes flying. Like his older brother..."

"And like his father", she shook her head.

_Anyway, must dash but I'll write soon!_

_I love you mum and dad!_

_Your Ryan_

Severus was silent and looked at his almost-wife. She had misty eyes and when she noticed him seeing them, she quickly averted her eyes – then, as that didn't help, buried her face in his shirt.

"There, love", he whispered, "it's only a few months until Christmas and you'll have them all home again."

She nodded meekly. "But with Lillian gone as well..."

"I miss them too", he confessed. "But on the other hand", he began, carded his fingers through her hair and pressed his lips on top of her head quickly, "I'm glad to have you for myself for the first time since we met."

"Mh", she looked up, "you're right. There was always a child around."

He smiled lovingly. "Yes. And now I got you all for myself, my life, my love, I'll have my way with you."

Hermione Granger squeaked when her long-term boyfriend, partner, significant other, love of her life, picked her up and carried her up the stairs. That was the life, more or less, she had dreamed of. And she knew – that that he felt the same way.

That they were truly made for each other. Not more and not less. Just that. The two of them – their family. Together.

**_

* * *

_**

**_FINE_**


End file.
